Gaming Siblings
by CANT HANDLE THIS VANILLA
Summary: A game and an accident see a brother and a sister in the One Piece world, neither wish to touch the plot just yet but they aren't above profiting from the scraps of the Straw Hats adventures. After all who would blame them when all the attention is on the Monkey... SI. Self Insert. OCs. I do not own anything concerning One Piece.
1. Chapter 1

"Sis, sis!"

A loud voice ripped apart the silence of the dark room, cutting the rhythmic sound of the clicking mouse. The woman on the other side of the table looked annoyed at him as she removed her massive headphones.

"What?"

"Check the link I just sent you. Found a One Piece MMORPG,"

"Really?"

"Yes. Looks interesting too,"

She opened the link she just received and started searching for gameplay videos, just to see if it was actually worth the time to make an account and start flooding one of her emails with one more game's spam. And she found nothing.

Not a thread, not a video, not a thing about the game. She stared hard at the search engine flashing the zero results message in the middle of her screen and turned to look at her brother, what the big oaf always managed to find could be put in two very different boxes. Either they were shady and pox ridden files or it was a song or game that was simply addictive to dangerous levels.

"Do you have anything on it? I couldn't even find the name,"

"Nothing but what is on the game's page, it has some very good concepts you know,"

"Examples. I don't go with just that,"

He rolled his eyes and started to look through the screen that specified the limitations on characters and stuff, and it was something else all right.

"Well, you can select the starting mastery of your character for one,"

Her eyes started to twinkle and he could see her inching to peek at his computer, he moved his rolling chair and heard it creak and groan as he pushed his weight to one side. The damn thing better not give out now when he had already fixed the wheels.

She started reading descriptions and the like as she went ahead and practically propped herself on his head, despite there being enough space for her to just be in the middle of the desk. Clingy tyke. He shook his head from side to side and managed to dislodge her after butting her clavicle.

"That hurts, bitch,"

"Language, sis. And stop using my head like a stand,"

"Language my ass, and if you weren't so damn big I wouldn't have to bother you,"

"You are just small,"

"Yours is small,"

She rubbed distractedly at where she was hurt as she read the descriptions of the game, limitations and other things. It seemed like there was no numerical values that you could touch up for your character's attributes, which was bullshit, but instead you had to work hard to get passives and techniques, which negated her previous opinion. It was all in all a very balanced game with a lot of thought into it to justify certain things.

You couldn't learn all the Marine Powers at once, for example, because the relaxing and flexing of your muscles needed to reach a certain value to keep advancing. Meaning you needed Kami-e and Tekkai before learning Soru and Shigan, then Rankyaku and finally Geppo. Which was kind of a bummer since she wanted to get everything at level one and work it up with whatever experience boost they would give her.

"Okay then, good enough. Made an account for me?"

"Like always, do we put some money in it?"

"Don't know if its that good of a game to pay for it,"

"Well I am going to use the Steam money,"

"Fuck that, there is like three hundred pesos I put the other day and they are mine,"

"I put ten dollars yesterday and that is like three times what you put,"

She looked at his smug face for a second, that infuriating slab of a face that was her brother wagging his club of a finger almost in front of her face just to drive the nail in. She was pretty sure she could slap him, but then she would hurt her hand and he would grin like the idiot he was, so she went for another way.

"What is in the account is split in half, no matter who put what. First thing we agreed on,"

And she felt the tip of her lip inching up as he made a constipated face. _Up yours dear brother._

"We aren't going to use four hundred pesos for this, are we? That's like three dozens crepes,"

"I am, so if you want I can babysit you,"

"You were the one that was against using money and now you want to go all in?"

"Things change, people change,"

"You just want to use my money,"

"That too,"

He grumbled as she linked her account to Steam, it was his money, his god damn it. But there was that agreement in place and he had used her money too, it had been once but she always pushed it forward saying he had been the one to set the precedent and all that. But it didn't matter, he was about to move out the house in a month or so and would buy another computer, their parent were already threatening both of them. It was a matter of time before they find their things in boxes and on the street, not like they weren't right that twenty five was a good age to fly off the nest or get kicked out.

Sighing he looked at her sister, eyes already wide open and hands doing rounds between the keyboard and the mouse faster than a boxer could jab.

"You better only use half of what we have, I am using the other half,"

"No need to say it twice, I am going mid and long range with a [Ranger]. You also need to select a role to fit in the crew, I am going with Medic and Captain,"

"Going [Warrior] and I am using Cook and Trainer,"

"Trainer? I didn't get that option, what does it do?"

"From what this says, you are capable of imparting your Skills to others more easily and faster. What does Captain do?"

"Better situational awareness and better luck. Just hope that the Medic is realistic enough or I am sending a complaint,"

"Yes, yes, Miss Resident. No need to brag,"

"You are just jealous of your successful little sister,"

"Oh, yes. I am so jealous of your rounds that take your whole weekend and being paid a misery for it, I am green with envy,"

She just flipped her finger at him, what would he know. It was all just a phase she needed to go through like every other good medic, it was either a shitty life early on but get lots of hands on experience in a public hospital or a nice place in a private one and take twice as long to get everything over with. And like dad said, the private hospital is nice and all but it breeds mediocrity, a meek and unsure bunch that wouldn't last a second if they had a rebellious patient.

"I am going full Observation Haki and Kami-e,"

She was surprised by how much everything costed, there were thirty levels to each kind of Haki and the Marine Powers were as expensive as a kidney.

"Don't. Put something in Tekkai and Armament or you are going to get killed in a second. I am even in Tekkai and Kami-e and got four free levels in Soru for it,"

"Good for you, I am putting something in Armament and Tekkai then. But not getting it even,"

"Do what you want, I am just trying to find the Conqueror's Haki,"

"It says here that you have a twenty percent chance of getting it. If you are Captain that is,"

His face soured and twisted a bit like he had eaten a lemon or something equally bad, rubbed his fingers a bit and let it go.

"Doesn't matter, it's just a dud anyway,"

"Sure,"

They got everything sorted out after a half an hour of debating, arguing, and cursing each other like they were enemies already. Her brother even went back and changed his role to Captain a couple of times before he settled and chose the same things he had the first time around, she couldn't understand why he cared about something like Conqueror Haki when it was just making weaklings faint.

In her opinion it was a waste of time to train something like that, unless you wanted to rule an island full of sheep why bother with something like that. You surely didn't level much by fighting the weak and it was boring to go through mobs all the time.

Both of them confirmed their character creation and got a loading screen that was the Strong World film poster, one of the best for her. A pity they made it pre-time skip, it wasn't very convincing that Shiki fought Roger evenly when a super nova had him beat. It was poor planning.

She saw her brother get up and change his old sweat pants and flip flops for something more normal, something that showed he still had some dignity, and turned to her.

"Think I am going to buy something to eat, do you want anything?"

"Let me get my wallet and we together, we need to buy more than a bag of milk,"

"Sure, going to wait outside then,"

"No smoking!"

"Go get your wallet and shut up,"

The nerve of her, he had smoked while he had been a rugby player and he had performed exemplary. What did she know, she was just a medic, nothing more. He needed to deal with the stress of everything and he was never quite fit enough for that task, neither was she for that matter, what with almost breaking her teeth from clenching them in her sleep and stuff.

But he had found out that a smoke a day keeps the nerves away, so you don't murder the idiots at work. An excellent motto if he was any judge.

His sister showed up when he had gone through half of his cigarette, dressed in all blacks like she was going to the gym or something and small as she was she looked like a spider you would find in the corner of your cupboards. And she was evil like one, so the comparison stood its ground and he smirked a bit.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, thought about a joke,"

"A dark one or a silly one?"

"Nothing offensive enough that you would laugh,"

"A silly one then,"

She knew her lump of a brother was lying to her, he always had that stupid half smile on his face when he thought he made some smart ass commentary on someone and he was dumb enough to sometimes let it slip and say it out loud. She knew he was a little slow in the head but she had a heart big enough to still somewhat love him despite his many faults and awkward situations he threw her in when he didn't watch his tongue.

The embarrassment still burned true whenever she remembered the time that he had called her ex-boyfriend her Uber to his face, and the poor guy could do nothing but make a weak sound that was close to a laugh and look at her for an exit. Because for all her brother was slow he was big, and an ex-pillar of the Jaguars made for an intimidating sight wherever you went.

They were already about to cross the avenue that was in front of the market, some idiots were revving their cars like they were driving Audis and BMWs instead of Ford Falcons like the poor bastards they were. She sighed hard at the need of some people of making loud noises when they saw women, bunch of half brains with the manners of a monkey.

She felt her arm being pulled, her brother grabbing her by her mid riff and the back of her head and turning her around. He gripped her tight, making it hard for her to breathe, she wanted to tap his arm and tell him to let go when she saw that the street started to go down, that the posts started to tilt and that her brother had almost folded on himself a second ago.

When she came to again they were both on the ground, they laid there side by side by some twist of fate and she saw that his shirt was teared up and showed white in all that red. His neck had a lump in one side he was clenching his teeth hard enough to draw some blood, she tried to turn over and help him, tried to roll on her arms and get up but strangely enough did nothing.

He limbs felt off, they didn't answer to her prodding, she couldn't even feel her fingers twitch when she tried for something less taxing. They felt like there was static going on and it was spreading through her chest from her arms and legs, she felt herself shiver as if she was slowly being put in ice cold water. The feeling kept going up, up her chest and up her neck, and when it reached her face her teeth clattered.

And then she felt no more and saw no more.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up feeling heavy, every piece of him felt as if it was made of lead and had been welded to the ground, much like every morning went. Stretching himself as far as he could go he whimpered when his shoulder and hip popped with a little bubble of pain and concern. His fingers digging into the ground and it parted easily, small grains tingling his skin as he started to get up from wherever he fell asleep. A sandbox perhaps, wouldn't be the first time he slept in a park.

The sun was fierce on his eyes and confirmed that he was outdoors, what went against his expectations was the wet feeling in his feet. He sat up and watched the waves lap at his toes, green water stretched in front of him as far as he could see, and he was sure that was an ocean, what he wasn't sure about was that there were such clear waters in Argentina. With some of the shock his memories started to jog, his mind started to wake up, he had been in an accident with his baby sister. He had covered her and hadn't had the time to jump away from the place.

He touched his whole body, looking for wounds and snapped bones or torn skin and scrapes and found nothing. He was immaculate, he felt better than ever now that he thought about it, his knees didn't hurt and neither did his neck. It was a bizarre situation, welcomed when he thought about the other option but no less strange and concerning.

Besides him was his sister, same outfit and everything, except she had balloons in her shirt or maybe something else. And while he was curious about what it was she was hiding, that was for her to find out. He reached out to her and slapped her gently, twice and thrice, the fourth he pinched her cheek until she woke up and scratched his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Waking you up, we need to talk about this,"

And he gestured with one hand as he cradled the other, it didn't hurt but it was still a habit he had to make it look like she had wounded him. She would call him dramatic and just carry on with whatever it was they had to do, worked all the time.

His sister looked around, gave the line of woods he had ignored until now a good look and then the sea, kept switching between the two until he was sure she would snap and covered his ears. Her scream ripped through the beach, scared the birds and the life out of some smaller animals that were hiding a couple meters away, how he knew that was a mystery he filed for later. There were more important things to do now, like calming her.

"Sis, calm down,"

She fixed him with a glare that told him his plan had failed, but at the very least she had stopped shouting and that was something good because he wasn't sure that they were the only ones in this place. She stomped her way until she was behind him and rested herself against his back, he just didn't feel like pushing her away even if he suspected she was using him for the shade.

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

"Yes. In a beach,"

"Sarcasm gets us nowhere, sis,"

"What do you want me to tell you? That I will read the fucking clouds and tell you what country we are in?"

"You are the one that's always watching Discovery Channel and stuff, thought you might know something,"

"The only place I can think of is the Caribbean,"

"Better than nothing. Hey, sis, don't you feel strange?"

She turned to look at her brother who just couldn't shut up, but when he mentioned feeling strange she thought of the worse, that maybe he had already caught a disease and that would have been the cherry on top of every one of her problems.

It wasn't enough that she could feel flames all around her, that the whole place looked to be about to bust with fire but she now had to take care of a man that was her best chance to get out of the place.

"What do you mean by strange?"

"I feel like there are a lot of things near us right now. I don't know how to explain it. Also, doesn't your chest feel strange?"

Her chest? What was wrong with it. She looked down and found her breasts swollen, massively so, she peeked inside her shirt and saw that it was all her and cursed like all hell because there was simply too much of herself. They looked horrible, they made her shirt stretch to an impossible degree and were going to mark it horribly, it was her nice shirt too. The one she used all the time.

"You look taller too,"

"Really? I don't feel any different though, except maybe stronger?"

"This is fucking awful,"

"Couldn't say it better. But we are still stuck here so we should move,"

"I know, and it makes everything even worse,"

He stood up and took in the view, even if the situation was as bad as could be the place was still beautiful and he would make sure to come back once they were both safe at home. That was his goal and that was what kept him from ripping out his hair and wailing, they were in a situation similar to a blind woman in an orgy, they both knew they were about to be fucked, just didn't know where it would come from. So there had to be at least one calm mind.

It didn't help that he felt something coming towards them, a flickering feeling that kept moving closer to them and it worried him that it could be he was suffering from a heat stroke. That he was hallucinating and being delusional, after all she had said nothing about strange feelings or flickers like the one he felt in the back of his mind.

He picked a rock that fit quite snugly in his hand and threw it up and caught it a couple times, trying to find the best way to grip it so he wouldn't break his fingers if he had to use it. With a satisfied nod he marched forward, ignoring the twists and knots in his gut. It was surely hunger and nothing more but they still made him nervous and he would always speak when he was nervous.

"Do you remember what happened before we woke up?"

"… yes,"

He kept walking in silence, the knots in his stomach had made their way to his throat as he wanted to ask her if she had seen what had happened to him but couldn't. He remembered, the image of her laying on the ground, crumpled like tissue as if she had no bones and when he thought that she had seen something similar he wanted to cry. Because they were supposed to be dead, because a piece of him knew they shouldn't be walking, shouldn't be able to.

"I should have looked down the street. You shouldn't have needed to protect me, I am sorry. I am so sorry,"

Her voice was almost a whisper as she apologized and gripped the back of his shirt, the look of pain in her brother's face was burnt at the front of her mind. And she couldn't think of anything other than what she could have done to avoid this, avoid being here. She felt him tremble when she took hold of his shirt, his shoulders shook when she let herself free of whatever was holding her back. Hugged him tight and her arms were barely able to close around his chest, he grabbed her hand and turned around to hug her back and she felt him use a tree to lean against as he held her close and if she felt the water pattering her crown she wouldn't say.

It was just so fucked up, everything, she was glad he was here but furious they were here, away from home and their house and their parents. She just couldn't hold herself together like this.

She wailed, sad and ugly sounds escaping her like thunder of a storm while her brother was silent but equally shaken. She felt it in the back of her mind, his sadness left him in scores like the waves reaching out and receding. And not long after they were both in an awkward silence, comfortable on the ground but very much aware of their soiled faces, finally she pried herself free and looked at his pinched face. His eyes puffed and squinting trying to keep any more tears from seeping out and his nose a mess of snot and was a bright red in all its pointy glory, like a heated nail.

They both laughed as they looked at each other's hideous faces and rubbed them clean with their forearms. Once the knots had come undone they started to walk once again, to march into the thick forest that was just so full of life that it was scary and a nervous man is a talkative one.

"You said I was taller, right?"

"Yes, but its just a feeling. Like I have to crane my neck more than I used to,"

"It only happens when I focus on it but the ground does seem a little further. But if I am taller then you are as well, because you still reach all the way to my chest,"

"Excellent news, we are taller now. One dream made true,"

"Didn't you also dream about not needing padded bras ever again?"

She was clearly not amused by his joke, and he supposed that some people just couldn't see the flare in his quick-witted remarks, but he had learnt that there was also some fun in looking at the twitching faces of those without humour. He either found it funny or he kept his comments to himself, and the last one wasn't an option really, he never wanted to let unsaid words rot in him. That was how you grew bitter.

"There is something to our left,"

The comment caught him off guard, he whirled to the left and crouched a little, trying to make himself a smaller target, trying to get a bit closer to the ground and be as solid as he could. Eyeing the woods he saw nothing, nothing but leaves and branches and the occasional bug made visible when flitting through the bright rays of the sun. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"I see nothing. What did you see?"

"I feel there is something hiding, its hungry and pleased. I can't see anything either,"

She was terrified, she could feel the flames almost a breath away, tongues of black and purple caressing her with the charm of a shank to the neck. They were thick as smoke and just as foul, it obscured her vision as a chill race its way down her back, making her straighten and reach for the fountain pen in her pocket. It may not be a shiv but it was sharp enough to draw some blood when used with enough strength.

The fire trickled down as she focused on it, it became more subdued and focused, sparks abandon it from time to time and died after a moment but she finally managed to regain her sight. What she could see was something big as a pyre, perched on a branch that was infested with climbing vines and nothing else. It didn't move, content to watch them.

"Snap out of it,"

Her brother's voice came low and hard, snapping her concentration and making her lose whatever was watching them in a flurry of fires that crept their way from all sides.

"I was trying to find whatever it is that is looking at us,"

"You looked like you were high,"

She breathed out slowly, and looked at the oaf at her side, then breathed once more for good measure.

"It's on that tree and using the branch closest to the ground to look at us,"

"And what do we do? Attack it? Run?"

"Does it look like I am Steve Irwin?"

"I hope not, cause he died. Remember?"

Before she could say anything hurtful to him, it came at them, the leaves rustled and fell as the tree shook from the sudden shift in weight and an animal bigger than life appeared in front of them with a speed that belied its bloated body. A pair of maws came at her and she could almost smell the rot as it tried to snap her chest but caught nothing but empty air, her body having turned soft as a noodle and almost dropped her on the ground before she regained her bearings and moved away from the beast.

She could see now that it was some kind of tiger, with eyes that popped from its head and fur that was a palette of dull browns and greens that caught no light, its head was bigger than the rest of the body and the paws were padded making it look like it was using something to appear taller.

When it tried to jump at her again a stone cracked the crown of its head, its mass shaking the ground beneath them as it collapsed with the grace of an overdosed addict. Without thinking she popped the cap of her pen and held it in both hand before putting her whole weight behind it as she stabbed down at the middle of its neck, just like when she had been asked to bleed a pig in their uncle's farm.

It sank down far too easily into the flesh and it didn't stop until it reached her grip, when she removed it she winced as she took in the piece of sinew stuck in the slit of the pen. It was going to be hard to clean that.

A pair of hands took her by the shoulders and forced her to face her brother, his thumbtack of a nose almost taking her eye and she had to rein in herself lest she stabbed him too.

"Martina. Martina, look at me. Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I am fine, Nico. So stop shaking me,"

"I was so fucking worried. I almost died thinking it had bitten you,"

They both looked at the big cat in front of them and then at the minuscule pen in his sister's hand, it was simply ridiculous for something that small to kill a feline that was as tall as his sister and that was at the shoulder. But then again, the way she dodged was something he didn't think she had in her or how he could down such a beast with a stone. Must be a magical stone, he would need to make sure not to lose it if that was the case.

He pressed himself against a tree and used it to slowly lower himself to the ground, because he didn't trust his legs that were turning soft from the fright and the stress. He needed a smoke to deal with this, or time, but a smoke was the better option. Bringing his hands closer he rested them on his stomach and a spot caught his attention, the hand in which he had held the stone was tainted black. It started uniformly at his palm but as it expanded it became something resembling the patterns of a Jaguar.

Miffed by the dirt he started to scrub at it with his nails, decided to get rid of the mud or whatever it was. He put strength into his finger and tried to get a hold of whatever was in his hand without success, almost as if it was part of his skin. Flexing and clenching his hand showed him the pattern shift with the movement and gave him pause.

He didn't like that train of thought.

Unsurely he grabbed a fallen branch besides him, his hand gave him a sure grip on it and he applied a little more strength, the spots shifted and attacked. They bathed the branch in black, making it look dead and sombre, and he almost lost it. But no, if he had to lose it he couldn't be alone in it.

"Sis, look at this,"

"What is it?"

"Look at my hand. Does it seem familiar,"

"Unless you cut it off it's the same damn hand you had before,"

"Would you just look,"

She turned her head at her brother's annoying demands, couldn't he see she was trying to piece everything together? She had just killed a monster of about a hundred kilos with a fucking pen and now he was calling her to show her his mud stained hand. What did he want her to do? Congratulate him for being able to finger paint now?

"I am looking at a dirty hand. And I hope it's either mud or blood,"

"And now?"

He took a branch in his hand, dead and withered by the cruel sun overhead and she watched as it became tainted. All the way from his hand to the tip of the wood there was but one colour, and that was black, thick and dull as tar. And it brought two words to the front of her mind and no matter how she tried to ignore them they stuck true like a pair of ticks. She opened her mouth without thinking and they were out.

"Armament Haki,"

"Indeed,"

"One Piece,"

"Indeed,"

"Shit,"

"Indeed,"


	3. Chapter 3

Hallo, first of all thank you for following my story and showing such interest in my work. I wanted to clarify that while the gaming part will be important in this story (what with it being in the title) it isn't going to be as intrusive as what you see in The Gamer and so. The will get Classes and Skills but there will be no interface, nothing to mingle with the system.

If you want a guideline for the RPG elements then The Wandering Inn is what I am using to define it. So no missions, inventory, shop, etc.

More feelings ahead.

* * *

She was up in a second, fatigue and fright were forgotten by the sudden revelation. Walking up to her brother, she plucked the twig from between his fingers and watched the colour drain from it, going back to being but a frail piece of wood. Her grip broke it down to pieces as frustration reared its head, she used both hands to split in two and threw the splinters that remained far into the woods. She looked down at him and stared at his lost face. The gloom practically seeped from him, like a dry and cruel wind that takes the breath away and with it their resolution.

Whereas she was fire, tongues of anger rolled from her as she thought about their situation, they spread like whips that lashed at the world. She hated not being able to see her parents, her friends, hated having lost everything she had worked for and having to start again on their own. But spite was a powerful thing, it gave her the strength to walk the length, to refuse to keel over.

She looked at him again and put out her hand, he was all she had and she wouldn't allow him to give up. Even if that meant dragging his fat ass through the half dead forest.

"Come on, we still need to find a place to sleep and something to start a fire with,"

"What for? We aren't going home,"

"To stay alive, you idiot. That's why, now get up,"

"But we are dead, sis. That's what all this is about, we are dead,"

He was starting to break down, and he could feel it in his breath, it came cold and short as if every time he let go a piece of him went away. He had been able to stay calm because there was hope of going back, because he ignored the obvious. But now? Thinking that their parents had to go through their deaths, had to plan their funeral, it broke him inside to think about them. Her old face tearing up when she saw what became of them, his father, always stoic and solid as stone crumbling under the grief.

A strangled wail escaped his lips as he thought about their grandmother, she was too old. It would be too much for her, too much for her weary heart. He felt Martina's hands coming to his face, holding his cheeks and forcing him to look up, her eyes were red and squinting and her voice was hoarse, now he realized.

"Do I look dead to you? We are still alive. We are still breathing and we need to keep moving, we need to keep moving to make right by mom and dad. They would cry if they found out we gave up like this, so get up. Get up and help me because I can't do this without you,"

She could feel it now, her words cutting him and doing something, slowly but surely he got up. The wind gave way to a breeze, slow but strong and carrying a warmth that forced her to shut her eyes to avoid crying, he enveloped her in a hug that lifted her from the ground and planted a loud kiss on her head. He put her down and looked at her gratefully, a pained smile on his face that made him look miserable but out of the pit of self-pity. And she guessed that would have to be enough for now.

"You were always the stronger one, sis,"

"One of us needs to be if we are going to live here,"

"I guess you are right sometimes,"

She raised an eyebrow at him but let it rest, she just wanted this day to be over so that she could sleep for a bit. All the emotional bullshit had sapped her batteries far too much and her eyes were already stinging and tired. So she set out to draw the lines that they should follow.

"First we need to find a place to sleep for the day, we don't know where we are and the night might come quickly. Second, see if you can drag that cat so that we can eat it and third we need to make something to cut it up, and make some fire,"

"I have my lighter still, it should last about fifty uses. Lighter and no cigarettes,"

"Then that's one thing less, we just need the tinder then. See if you can move it,"

He strode forward to the fallen beast, unsure of how he was supposed to tackle this task. Move the corpse she said, drag it through the forest she said, he would be lucky if he didn't get a hernia from lifting the damn thing. He grabbed a fistful of its scruff, the fur stretching until it became taut and he tested how much effort it would take. Not feeling much resistance he kept lifting his arm, until its head and front leg were in the air.

Forgoing care, he used both arms to lift its whole bulk from the floor, barely straining to hoist what should be about four hundred kilos of tough muscle and bones, the effort was about as big as cradling a grown dog.

Catching his sister's eyes, he turned around and showed her what he did, holding their dinner like it was a big plushie from a street stall. She patted it in the head like it was their pet and sighed.

"A pity it attacked, it's fur is so soft,"

"That's what you care about?"

"Yes, let's go,"

They could hardly afford wasting time being amazed by how much stronger they were, it was already a fact that they were and if she showed her interest she knew they would go nowhere. He would simply spend the rest of the day trying to find something he couldn't lift off the ground and she wasn't about to entertain his needs to test himself. That was something to do elsewhere, somewhere safe preferably.

So she set the pace, threatening to leave him behind if he kept dallying with the tiger. They moved towards the mountain, having decided to get to a vantage point where they could inspect the whole place and see if there was a smidgen of civilization in this backwards world.

He talked, Nico always loved to talk. He talked about how light a load he was carrying, about how he wanted a smoke and she thought she wouldn't mind having a drink after all this. He spoke as they cut a path through the vast green, trampling on weeds and reeds, breaking branches to make sure the big guy had a clear way.

Without warning something flashed to their right, she turned and looked in the direction where she had felt a presence appear with her Haki. She may not be able to control it yet but it was enough to recognize threats, know when something or, hopefully, someone focused on them. And she had felt it go off, a flash fire that disappeared just as quickly and left her clenching her fists in worry. Whatever it was that had caught her attention was able to hide from her, because even as she focused on the area she felt nothing but insects and birds.

She turned around and spoke with haste.

"We are moving. Drop that and get something to use if we have to fight,"

"What?"

"I felt my Haki go off on something, and it fucking disappeared,"

"Just our luck,"

He shrugged his weight from his shoulders in a second and moved with a pressing need towards one of the healthier trees, he grabbed a thick branch and snapped it clean off the trunk by jumping up and down a few times. Martina looked at him and motioned with her chin for him to lead, her pen already in her hand and without the cap, their preparations were haphazard but the would have to do.

Taking point, he put up with a punishing pace that had him trampling the undergrowth back to the ground, the tangling vines and foot hugging nettles were turned into a green carpet that was plastered against the soil. He had turned around a couple of times, to make sure that he hadn't left her behind in this mad rush, after the fourth time he turned she started shouting at him from time to time.

Her heart was about to beat out of her chest as she kept up with her brother, her blood running cold in her as she felt the flare move from one side to the other, it allowed her to sense it. It would appear in front of them from time to time and she had to shout to get him to veer to the sides and avoid them, they were playing with them. Her face flushed, she could only think about how to escape from the damn place, but the thought left her when she crashed into her bother.

The pain in her nose yanking her back to reality and she was about to shout at him when she saw that what was laid before them was the tiger they had ditched some time ago. A sound on their side had them both readying up for a fight, she could hear wood groaning as Nico hardened the grip on his club and tainted it with his Haki, she did the same for her pen and felt it turn into a part of her. The link was frail, and the colour was slightly off compared to his, but it would have to do.

With her nerves about to be frayed by fear she kept looking around, her Observation doing rounds around them and the action came naturally, and the fact that she found nothing kept setting off alarms in her head until she locked onto something. That same flare of strength appeared again in front of them, just a stone throws away and from the sea of trees walked out a woman. She was tall and with a step that showed confidence and strength, eyes that showed she was having fun as they crinkled a bit and a rifle fastened to her back with its wooden stock peeking over her shoulder.

"Is this the one that we have been running away from?"

He had lowered himself and backed away from the woman before whispering to his sister, she eyed him critically for a second before giving him a grave nod. He understood the feeling, he didn't fancy going into a gunfight with a bloody club. Not one bit. But before either of them could get the courage or the wits to start talking to the woman she took the lead.

"Are you two lost by chance?"

"Yes,"

"And where do you come from then?"

"Dawn Island in the East Blue,"

Martina answered without missing a bit, she had already rehearsed the whole story with Nico. They weren't about to start trusting people everywhere, and they supposed that it would be easier for the both of them to let others hear about a familiar place rather than another world.

"My, my, you have sailed quite the ways to reach North Blue,"

"North Blue?"

The question escaped Nico before he could even think about it.

"Aye, Farra Island in the North Blue. You didn't even know which Blue you were in?"

"No, we didn't. We just woke up in a beach, killed a tiger, and got chased by someone,"

Her amusement did nothing but grow when Martina tried to turn the conversation away from the topic, and if it had a bit of a bite to it then all she could say was that the woman had done everything to earn it.

"Right, well I couldn't just come up to you without knowing if you were dangerous, now could I? I was very scared when I saw people capable of Haki in this little piece of the world,"

"And what do you think about us now?"

She regarded both of them with a smile evident in her eyes as she spoke.

"Well, I trust you enough to tell you my name. I am Itse, Faithful Itse they call me,"

Nico nodded and put a hand to his chest as he presented himself.

"I am Esquirla I. Nicolas and she is my sister, Esquirla A. Martina, we hope that you could help us get settled somewhere?"

"If you leave that club on the floor then I wouldn't mind taking you two with me,"

"Didn't you say you didn't trust us?"

"Sure, but I got your measure now and that gives me some leeway. And no morganeer would question my decision, so that is a plus for you. Well done girl,"

 _How endearing._ Martina thought sourly, she was tired, her legs stinging and spasming from time to time from the marathon the woman had forced the both of them on and that had done nothing to better her mood. Even worse she seemed to have enjoyed the exercise about as much as she had despised it.

But knowing that she could do nothing with this anger of hers she settled with kicking that lump of meat they had killed before, it helped somewhat. Much better than bottling everything up, experience told her it would do nothing but explode later on and make her fuck something up.

"Are you ready, sis?"

"Hm?"

"Just wondering if I can grab it already or if you are going to keep kicking it. Itse is already moving, see,"

And true to his word the damn woman was already leaving them behind and didn't look to be about to worry if they were following her or not. She nodded at him and he put the tiger over his shoulders once more and they both set out into the forest, following that thin back deeper and deeper into the unknown.

Why, she almost felt that she was in a fairy tail.


	4. Chapter 4

Kind of a weak chapter to me, but it was due. Also gaming piece starts.

* * *

The whole day had been eating at the both of them, their patience had been filed until all that was left was a nail of patience they were forced to share, and it threatened to snap as the hot and humid air got to them. If they had been unable to see the house that sat atop one of the many hills that turned the plains into a choppy sea of green, they would have likely thrown the towel and laid in the shade of a tree. They would have both thought it was beautiful if it wasn't so damn tiring to climb and descend from a hundred and one useless mounds of dirt.

Nico could already feel the back of his neck starting to get chaffed by the lump that he had been lugging all day, he could already feel it stiffening from rigor and starting to turn into a block of wood. He just wanted the day to be over, eat a full pot, smoke a whole pack, bath a full hour, and then lay down for a night and half a day. That would be bliss, and too much to ask from their host. It didn't seem there was enough civilization to get half of what he wished for but hoping was free, so he would do it as often as he could.

When they arrived, they got a good look of where they would be staying for the time. A house with its lower half made of stone and mortar, and just as old as the ground they were standing on, it was coated with creepers and vines that crawled their way up to chest height and died when the wooden part started. The upper part was made of wood that was black as charcoal and midnight, with its hazy window panes that looked like they had seen more storms and hails than wet clothes.

"Well then, this is my home children and I hope you find it as cosy as I do. Of course, you don't have much in the way of choices, unless you wish to sleep outside,"

She spoke with some vim in her voice as she shouldered the ancient door and he wondered how long the pitted copper bands would last before letting the planks fall like stones. At least ,he hoped, they lasted until he left, he didn't fancy being asked to fix the monstrous thing. He stood on the entrance and eyed them both as Martina grumbled something that could have been an Italian curse their grandmother had taught them and Itse rested her rifle by the door and eased a revolver and a knife, he hadn't seen her carry them before, from their holster and sheath.

"Excuse me, do you have a workplace where I can skin this or a rack at least?"

She eyed him over and snorted.

"And what are you going to work with? Pray tell. Going to scratch it until the fur comes off?"

Without a pause she unsheathed her knife and with some flourish presented it to him, point first, and he looked at the live blade and then at her. Licking his lip and clearly uncomfortable as she shook it impatiently in front of him, he looked at his sister so that she could explain it with some tact and realized his mistake a second later.

"He won't take it, you need to offer it handle first,"

"What?"

"The knife. You need to offer it with the handle towards him or he won't take it,"

Itse looked between both of them and then at the blade in her hand.

"And why won't he take it this way?"

"An old belief. A knife given point first is a sign you hate him and want a fight, nobody pays attention to that kind of things anymore though. Other than him that is,"

She changed the way she was gripping the knife and Nico took it in a second before scampering like a rat caught stealing. The oaf had always been shy about his creeds but even then, he had always stood by them. It was the one thing she admired of him, his loyalty, he never erred from the way he believed things should be, a straight edge their great uncle had called him and she thought it fit him just right.

Itse didn't seem to mind his behaviour as much as most other people, but that could be chucked to her being used to people having a tick or a dozen in this mad world. She turned to her and spoke with a half-smile that grated at her, like she knew something and was going to hold it over her head the whole time.

"I am going to get something to snack on while we talk, do you want tea or coffee?"

She eyed her sour face for a second before adding.

"Maybe something stronger will do a better job,"

Martina could almost feel her mouth water at the mention of something with a kick, with all the bullshit she had had to deal with she was about ready to start chugging ethyl alcohol if that was all she had.

Just as she had managed to settle in a position in which the straw filling wasn't stabbing her ass, and she was no longer in danger of being shanked in the crack, Itse came out of the kitchen with two full trays. A black bottle and two glasses in her left hand and a bowl full to the brim with something in the other, looked like meat from where she was.

"Hope you enjoy this. The tastes may be a little strong but it's all I have to offer,"

"Thanks,"

Came the awkward reply as she realized that they were putting a weight on her, that helping them wasn't free to her. She relished on the taste of the salted meat and the drink all the same, after all, guilt was cheap in front of hunger.

"Now, what should we talk about?"

Itse eyed her, the tanned skin wrinkling as she smiled, she enjoyed making others uncomfortable she had realized.

"Let's skip where you come from, since it looks like we will go nowhere,"

She paused and stared at her widening eyes with laughter across her face.

"Did you really think you could lie to me? I didn't even need Haki to call that bluff, but it's no problem. After all provenance is nothing but a matter of chance, same with names,"

That last part, Martina realized, came with a venom and dripping with feelings that had turned bitter with age.

"So tell me, what did you use to do?"

Swallowing the handful of raw meat that she had been chewing on she answered while nursing her almost empty glass and staring at the bottle longingly. It was a delightful rum, made from coconuts and with a real soft feel to it.

"I was a surgeon before ending up here. Worked in a public hospital in a bad place, a mess where there were never enough supplies and the patients came with some kind of rot to top their wounds,"

She paused and drank half the glass she had filled back up, it was such a good drink and she was thinking about how to smuggle the bottle with her. Perhaps under her breasts, it was about time she found something they were good for.

"In other words, I used to stitch skin and nail bones. Made a mugger or two piss themselves from fright on my table too,"

"I am sure there is a good story behind that,"

Martina showed a smile, for the first time that day, and it felt good to let her frown recede, to forget a bit about how big the shithole she was in actually was. The rum also helped. Alcohol always helped, that was the one constant across the worlds.

Nico swiped his face on his forearm and cleared the sweat from his eyes, doing his best not to touch his face with his dirty hands. Seated on the rotting trunk of a tree he looked at the fur draped over the rope, he had cut it at the elbow and it still managed to just barely touch ground from that far up. Everything in this place seemed to be overgrown. Even the damn flies were a size or two bigger than they had any right to be, it was to the point that he had thought they were wasps at first, almost running away from them in pure fright.

The thought made him a little mad as he slapped a chiefly fat bug against the trunk he was sitting on, wincing as he felt the wet of filth in his hand. He walked up to the bucket he had filled from the stream nearby and washed his hands off, blood and fur turned the water murky and showed him but a tainted reflection of himself. And for a second he saw himself bruised and broken, as he should be.

He couldn't stop now, he needed to work a bit more, tire some more, so that when he rested he fainted and dreamt of nothing. He simply wanted to avoid thinking as he spread the clothe he had been given to carry the meat, he just wanted everything to go back to how it was as he took the length of sharp steel and started cutting.

The work was done faster than he thought possible as he used his Haki to make sure not to need to sharpen the blade if he hit a bone or two, thing is he hadn't realized the bone was there when he did. He had taken a couple shavings off from the parts near the joints instead.

Nico tied up the ends of the clothe where the pieces of the tiger had been laid haphazardly and lifted them up with one arm, kept the whole sack away from him and his clothes not wanting to get blood on his only possessions. Kicking the bucket over he let the filthy water drain before taking it with him to the river, he couldn't just let the grime settle on his arms there was still cooking to be done after this.

He wondered how to cut up the meat, there was a lot of it in the ribs and more in the rump, they were going to be eating ass it seemed. An amused snort escaped him just as he reached the creek that flowed down the knoll that sat behind the hut. Letting everything rest against the trunk of a tree that was just a couple steps away he walked into the shallow stream and let himself chill in the water.

Sitting there he could feel the cold cutting all the way into his marrow, which was welcomed given the blazing heat that kept buffeting the place despite the sun already starting to set. But what he didn't expect was that something would hit him in the back, not hit him, it wasn't strong enough to be called that but he still felt something bumping against him.

Turning around he saw a ball of fur pressed against him by the weak current, he picked it up with his thumb and index and took it out of the stream. After all he didn't fancy bathing with a dead animal. As he moved it away it started to tremble, its chest rumbling low and loud enough to let him feel the vibration through his arm.

Curious he brought the little mess in front of his face to look at it, only for a swift swipe to come at his cheek and doing nothing as an instinctual layer of Haki protects him from the vicious attack. Realizing it failed in its ambush the cat settles to draw itself into a ball and hiss at him, and he wonders annoyedly if it realizes that he is helping it.

Pulling it away from his face he looks at it as a series of rare pragmatic thoughts war inside him.

 _Is it worth keeping it? Will it be too much trouble? Is it fit as pet or pot?_

In the end he settled with feeding it something and taking it with him, even if it attacked him it was tired and probably frightened by him. Nothing to do with how relaxing it was to knead its fur. With the new addition already asleep after eating a couple slices of meat he started his return, surely they were wondering where was their meal.

When he drew closer to the cabin he could already hear the beginnings of a ruckus, the sound of someone slapping wood travelled all the way to him. Screams and laughs came later and he started to put more strength on his stride, worried about Martina making a mess.

He opened the door hastily, only to be pulled by the collar by his sister who was in a stupor as she tried to sing as loudly as she could.

"We like to get the trial over with quickly. Because it's the sentence that's really the fun!"

Prying her fingers away from him he looked around and took in the two black bottles on the floor, Itse's drooping eyebrows, and finally to the bottle Martina was still hugging as she danced and shouted. Pinching the bridge of his nose he let out a huff as irritation crawled its way up his throat, extending one hand in front of Martina he gestured for her to surrender the bottle. But all she did was give him a high five and fist bump his fingers.

"Sis, give me the bottle,"

"Sure, sure. Here you can have it,"

Plucking it out of the air by the neck he gave it a shake and realized that it made no sound, making his frown etch itself deeper into his face. This was no time to be drinking, much less in such excess.

"It's empty,"

"Of course it is. Why would I give you one that isn't?"

He was sure a vessel burst open somewhere in his head at that quip.

"Because you have drunk enough,"

Her whole face pinched when the words were out, as if there was an insult hidden somewhere that she wasn't catching. Before she could get an answer in Itse butted in.

"It's entirely my fault. I shouldn't have brought out more after the fourth one,"

"Four? I only count three,"

When he turned around Martina was holding another bottle like it was a child long lost, and his frustration wanted to rip it away and fling it. But he didn't, partly because he hated taking things away so rudely and partly because he would wake up the kitten. With nothing to do he surrendered to the situation and simply asked Itse where he should leave the meat.

The both of them went to the back of the house and left Martina to her own devices, she unlocked a latch on the floor and a winter wind swept at their feet.

"Throw it in there, it will be fresh for tomorrow. I don't think I have the stomach to eat after all this anyway,"

Depositing the sack and closing the latch he walked back to the living room and found his sister passed out on the couch, the bottle having rolled up to the rest of its siblings. He drew himself near her and hear her whisper.

" 'm sorry,"

His throat clenched a bit and he patted her head, the kitten having woken up jumped on top of her and settled in a little mound on her chest. It was fine, they would be fine, he would make sure of it.

Martina dreamt of home and work. Of a loving family and sour lovers, of coconut rum and happy pirates.

 **Congratulations [Ranger] Class levelled up.**

 **[Ranger] level 1.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Easy Gait] learnt.**

She groaned as the letters flashed in her head and ignored them and their call.


	5. Chapter 5

Is this considered slice of life or some other tag?

* * *

His guts rumbled as he filleted a whole leg and stroked the fire he had lit beneath the iron block that was the oven. Crushed the salt grains and pepper in the pestle and licked his finger to see if the mix was right, the burst of taste made his stomach cry even harder. After rubbing some fat over the great piece of metal he threw ten slices of meat that was thick as a woman's finger and as long as two palms, the whole room was almost immediately filled by the smell of cooking.

"With that smell I almost regret having had my fill with your sister,"

"To each their own, I don't like drinking half as much as I like eating,"

Faithful gave him an appraising look, eyed his gut and gave a nod in understanding that made Nico snort in dissent. He was most definitely not fat, why, he was the very epitome of healthy, a little too healthy some would say but that depended on your definition of the word. After turning the cooking meat and spicing a couple to his taste, he turned round and sat by the counter that was fashioned as a window to the kitchen.

Taking a glass for himself he dipped it in the bucket of clear water that Itse had fished before and cleaned the excess with his hand.

"You don't drink?"

She asked as she pointed at the sealed bottle sitting by the edge of the counter, he shook his head and winced a bit at the thought of drinking rum now. The only two things he could enjoy at any time were beer and fernet with cola, anything else and he would feel queasy after the first glass.

"I will stick with water, thank you,"

"A pity. It's easier to know what people are like when they drink a bit,"

"We can still talk without drinking or you can drink, and I follow you with this,"

"I guess we can try,"

She gave him an amused smile that was sweet as the smell that came from the empty bottles and she eyed Martina, she was eagle spread on the couch and grumbling every now and then when the cat kneaded her stomach. A curious little thing that one, it was unlike any other feline he had seen, with a head two sizes smaller than its body, not much in the way of tail, and a pair of ears that were as long as its head and ended sharply.

"Tell me about your sister, what is she like to you?"

He raised an eyebrow at that question, seemed a little redundant to him, what with all the drinking together they had done and everything.

"Why would you want to hear me talk about her?"

Her head tilted from side to side as she thought, a small dance that looked to help her think.

"I find it amusing to hear how people see others, to know what kind of person lives in their eyes. It's fascinating when they speak, and I feel like we met completely different personas,"

He could understand that, just barely, the idea of wanting to know so much about others had his mind twisting as to why someone would go out of their way to meet others. But he guessed that same interest of hers was the reason why she was hosting them, and that was better than all the alternatives his sister had drilled in his head. Much better.

But then came the question, what did he think about her? That she was a goblin fueled by alcohol and sarcasm, that was an excellent description, but it lacked so many pieces of her.

"She is," and he struggled to find the words to describe the little thing.

"She is iron and hard work. You will never see her lazing around if she isn't drunk, and if she starts something she doesn't stop gunning for it until others recognize her effort and results,"

He chuckled at that, the image of that little thing sitting in front of a computer and taking online classes to skip the first year of university and avoid wasting her time. Drinking herself stupid when a year went by and she had nothing but aces, cackling like a crow every time someone came at her to complain and she had showed them their ignorance and scrubbed it all over their face.

"Spiteful is a very important piece of her as well,"

Faithful was beaming when he looked up and it didn't take long until she couldn't hold it any longer and she laughed, loud and clear as a bell and with so much energy that it couldn't come from a woman with the starts of gray hair.

"It's delightful to hear family praise each other. That's how it should be, how it should always be,"

A shade of crimson creeped up his face, he surely hadn't spoken so much as to call it praise, it was but his observation and not much else. Faithful looked at him and gripped his shoulder with more force than her thin arms should have before slapping him.

"There is no need to be embarrassed about something like this, boy. Love is nothing to be shamed about,"

"Well, we are family after all. Only right we care for each other,"

He answered after his head was back in track and his face was a shade of red that could have very well been a burn from the sun, it was a very sunny day and he had worked hard without shade after all.

"If only. I have seen so many examples of the opposite that I consider you two fortunate,"

Her words made him think as he pressed the point of a knife against the thicker slice and confirmed it was thoroughly cooked, he thought of a boy shooting his father as he put three slices on a wooden plate and the other seven on another. He thought about that boy growing to be twisted and miserable before picking hope when he found his brother, sprinkling a bit more of salt he saw him break as he found out his betrayal and harden when he shot him.

But what called him more than anything was how she said she had seen them, she had bore witness to this cracked families, and that brought a question.

"Itse you say you saw this happen. Meaning you travelled around a lot,"

Eyes that were soft with enjoyment harden at the end, showed an iron that had been scarred through the years and had held itself true. Her voice was slow and deliberate.

"Yes, you are right,"

The tip of his tongue flicked nervously over his lips, it looked like the dry mood was going to chap them. But he soldiered on, say one thing for Esquirla Nicolas, say that he doesn't know when to shut up.

"Then, my question is, were you a marine or a pirate?"

"Are those two my only options? Couldn't I have been a merchant? A dancer or a whore?"

Wincing at the last part of her sentence, he looked at her, there was no joy in her and no fun to be had when her face was hard as stone and her lips pointing downwards. Brushing her face with a hand she wiped some of her misery and tried smiling again, only making Nicolas wince harder and making her give it up.

"Well, you are right. I was one of those two. I was a pirate,"

She tried the word in her mouth and seemed to find it soaked in melancholy.

"I was a pirate for seven years and that was twenty-three years ago, joined a crew when I was fifteen years and no more. The best captain and the best friends, and all of them gone their own way,"

He was looking for something to say, anything would have been better than the sound of himself chewing. It was beef, the Poppy Tiger, as it was called proper, tasted so much like beef and was so soft it practically melted in his mouth, and so the chewing kept going, stress giving his guts the need to keep eating. But she didn't seem to mind the background noise.

"We split up. One year before Gol D. Roger had his neck meet the chopping block our captain decided she had had enough. Said she was no longer capable of leading, no longer capable of sailing,"

Nico chocked on the meat, a big, mean chunk had gone the wrong way and he grabbed his neck in pain. He tried to cough it up once, then twice, and then he spat it out when Faithful grabbed him from behind and squeezed him.

"Are you okay?"

His throat hurt something fierce, it hurt so damn much, but his shock was stronger as he looked at the floor and tried to keep it hidden. The King was dead, the throne still guarded by the small giant, and the world was ignorant of their child. Itse kept him seated and served him a glass of water.

"Thank you. I am fine now, sorry to have worried you,"

"Doesn't matter. Least you made me stop talking about that,"

"Sorry that I made you talk about something you didn't want to,"

"No, no. If I didn't want to talk I would have told you so, I may be bitter about how it ended but those years with the Blackjacks remain the best years of my life,"

"Do you still want to talk about it?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second.

"No, that's enough for one day,"

Thank god.

"I see. Then I am going to clean up and get ready to sleep if you don't mind,"

"You can have the room to our right. You may want to slap the sheets and get rid of the dust though, I will be going before you then. Have a good night,"

"Thank you and likewise,"

He watched her go, swallowed by the darkness when she stepped past the reaches of the oil lamp overhead, over their heads actually, it was at eye level for him. When he focused back on his plate he found a paw peeking from the other side of the counter, amused he stared at it watched as the cat slowly creeped up.

It showed its head a second later and paid him no mind as it kept climbing unashamed at being caught, once it was on the counter it started to stalk towards the plate topped with fillets. Moving fast Nico grabbed it before the cat could throw itself on it and pulled it out of its reach, he flick it on the snout with one finger and it hissed at him.

Dumb dumb, the cat, searched for the plate and its eyes landed on his outstretched arm and pounced on him. It clawed at his shoulder and tore his shirt, but did nothing to him proper, he looked at it for a second before prying the animal from him. He held it by its scruff in the air and chided him, only to be hissed at once again. He wondered if it was a race of daredevil cats that lived here, or if this specimen was simply too stupid to realize its predicament, if it was the latter it was nothing but natural selection to throw it in a pot if it kept at it.

Deciding to spare it, once again, he put it on the floor and just slapped it on the head, making it scamper towards his sister and hiss again once it was safe. Why, it almost managed to look smug.

After cleaning the plate and the slab of iron he had cooked with and slapping a cat four times, if it wasn't stupid from birth it was most certainly stupid by now, he went to his room. Threw the window open and dusted the sheets from there, a bloody cloud rose from them and he was almost sure he would have died if he had spent the night breathing that.

He lay on the bed, simply not caring about the dry straw and letting his bulk flatten it all, with but a sheet that reached his ankles to cover himself. It was all a luxury for him, a few hours ago he didn't think he would be able to taste the comfort of a bed in a long time. All of it was welcome and the breeze that freeze his feet and the straw that needled him were but small things that let him remember he was here now, that he was alive and that was welcomed as well.

And he slowly drifted to sleep.

 **Congratulation [Warrior] Class levelled up.**

 **[Warrior] level 1.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Lesser Strength] learnt.**

 **Congratulation [Chef] Class levelled up.**

 **[Chef] level 1.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Deft Hands] learnt.**

His eyes shot open as the last of the notifications faded from his mind, there were no letters in his head, no sound, no nothing. They simply appeared somewhere, they came to him like a memory triggered by something and made his breath struggle in his chest.

He tried calling them again, tried prodding his head and trigger that same feeling but nothing happened. In a fit he had called every single word and command he could think of to no result other than playing the fool.

There was nothing to do other than struggle to remember the information, the Classes, the Skills he engraved every letter in his heart. It would not do to forget his character sheet when he couldn't look at it again.

Finally his beating heart calmed itself, his breathing eased up, and his exhaustion caught up to him. And he dreamt of nothing just like he hoped for.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	6. Chapter 6

*Pokes the mound of followers that suddenly popped out* Oy, what do you lads and lasses want with me?

~I am not happy that you are here with me, stupid~

* * *

She woke up unwillingly, annoyed by a pain that kept travelling from her breasts to her stomach, a damn weird kind of pain. Felt like someone was scratching her with fishing hooks and pulling harder each time they got caught in her clothes, she swore that if it was Nico she would break his nose, even if it took her the rest of the day.

Craning her neck up she looked down and found a pair of fluffy spikes hiding behind her teats, both ending with a stain of black that crept lower as if someone had dropped paint from the very top and had let it drip down. With her good arm, the other one had somehow ended up under her and was as good as dead, she reached out and patted the blot of fluff that was scratching her. And the pain stopped, the cat frozen by the sudden touch and remained that way until she grabbed it by its scruff and laid it on the ground.

Once she managed to sit up and got her dead arm over her lap, she took in the room she had passed out in. She counted three windows, one of them showing another room, one table that was knee high and perfect to blow up your shin against if you stumbled, and a single framed picture nailed against the wall opposite to the couch. And she wondered if the reason Itse was so amused by the two of them was because of how little she had in the way of entertainment.

Perhaps she would also needle others for some laughs if she had so few things to do. And the fact that she had close to nothing now stung somewhere near her chest.

The cat mewled softly from between her legs and she gave it some attention, wisps of frail need escaped its eyes like tears and spread near its feet, pooling there like a fog of gloom. She wondered if she would be able to turn off this ability of her, or at least ignore it, because she feared what it might do to her. Watching feelings take on physical form? That was going to be bad for her, it might show her monsters made of fear and hate or worse, it might make her feel pity.

She shuddered at the thought of being unable to ignore others misfortune, she couldn't afford being a bleeding heart in this world. Her brother was already too much to deal with for her to agree and follow him in saving the world or some other dumb quest. No. She wouldn't live for others, she refused the thought, if she helped others in her wake that was fine, but it wouldn't be her goal. It wasn't before, and sure as hell it wouldn't be now.

The mewling took a high note that brought her from her thought and she put the cat on her lap, petting its soft fur and feeling her heart and irritation simply melting away. Animals were an exception, she could ignore a bullied child or a beat-up scrub but never a cat or a dog. They just didn't deserve that.

A loud sound came from the corridor that was next to the couch, it was a scream that climbed in pitch until it was but a terrible screech that could have scared ghosts away. It seemed her dear brother had woken up, and the fucker still had that damned habit of screaming when he stretched on the bed. She could only hope Itse didn't shoot him for the scare, or that she at least avoided the heart. He had more skull than brains after all, he could bully his way through a headshot.

And just as she had managed to calm down the jittery cat she could feel the boards creak and groan as Nicolas stumbled through the corridor, he had to crouch down to pass the doors arch and even then, the clumsy oaf managed to shoulder it and make the rafters shudder from the blow. How he had done that she decided to justify it as the mad world's fault.

"Good morning, Mar,"

Came his sluggish greeting as he scrubbed the gunk from his eyes and cleaned his hand on his shirt.

"Morning, Nico. Do you know if Itse fed her cat already?"

He opened one eye to look at her and then at the cat. Its back began to arch when Nico put his eyes on it and he simply snorted at the clear aggression.

"That's not Itse's, its ours or at least it is for now. If it keeps trying to maim me its going into a pot,"

It tried to hiss at him but gave up when she pushed it down and started petting it again, the smog of fear and whips of hate slowly weakening and dying as she kept ministering caresses. Whatever he had done to it had scarred it, and it had done so badly if that was its first reaction to him. She levelled him with a glare that had managed to wilt even the Health Director of her hospital when he had stepped out of bounds, and it worked something in Nico as well. Waves ran through his face, yellow as piss, nervousness she recognized, and with a black foam of guilt.

"Why in hell is it so angry at you?"

"Wouldn't know. I found it in the river, picked it up and it attacked me, I cradled it and it fell asleep until we got here. Then it stayed with you,"

She could almost hear the rest of his sentence dying in his throat, she could feel that there was more to that story. And she didn't think she would like to hear it, so she let it rest. Why ruin the day like that?

Nico looked at her for a second before the nerves were replaced, out were the waves of nerves and in came the black curtains of secrecy and the blades of caution.

"Do you know where Faithful is? I need to tell you something about. About this,"

He hesitated as he spoke, unsure of the words he needed or could use, until he settled to motion for the floor, the ground, and the world.

"She could be hiding her presence, so I have no way of knowing. But if she didn't come out with a blade when she heard you scream, means she isn't here now,"

Nico at least had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as he sat down next to her, he tried to pet the cat and got scratched for the effort. Then he started speaking.

"I found out two things, very important stuff,"

"Then speak, man. Speak,"

He spoke as if to build the mood, as if he had some exciting gossip and he was going to hold on to them for as long as he could. And she didn't half the patience to put up with his games.

"Fine, fine. I found out that we are in the year of the One Piece, twenty-two years after the king's death,"

"And the month? Did you ask for the month?"

The voice hardly sounded like her own. She certainly hadn't meant to speak with such haste and worry. But what else could she do, the story was starting, and the characters of the play were moving. Were making waves already, dangerous waves. And she didn't fancy them being there when they broke and took them under.

Nico spoke slowly and unsurely.

"No. I just couldn't, thought it might look too suspicious. I already made a scene when she told me the year,"

She wanted to be angry, to berate him for missing such a chance, but that was just the worry inside her that was speaking. He had done more and better than she had, and she couldn't blame him for that.

"Okay, okay. We need to know the month. The Monkey sets sail the first week of May and that is all we know about the schedule, the rest we have is fucking guess work,"

Curse Oda and his messy ass time lines.

"Still, there is one other thing we have to talk about. The Game,"

"What Game?"

"The Game. The one we were playing before coming here, remember?"

"Yes?"

Her voice unsure and confused, she remembered the poster of men and women wearing suits and dresses that almost showed the nipples. Of levels and notifications late at night and she paused. There had been something weird last night, ghostly letters and numbers.

"You mean that wasn't a dream?"

"So you got the notifications too, then. That's a relief, thought I might have been seeing things,"

"I remember. [Ranger] level 1 and only one Skill, damn lame one too. [Easy Gait],"

God if she didn't think that Skill was a dud, what was it supposed to do for her? Let her walk better? She was no damn model that needed to stay upright in her high heels as she strode down a cat walk. She almost spat at the thought.

"It's just level 1, Sis. It would be unfair if you got the [Fist Of Destruction and Creation] from the start,"

"Thing is, Nicolas, that this is real life. And if we don't pull ourselves ahead of the rest we are going to end under someone. I don't fucking fancy that, do you?"

"Well, no. But you are rushing things right now, we are on an island in one of the Blues. Right next to the weakest Sea, if we wanted to we could just go to the East Blue and grind there. Who can use Haki there?"

He did have a point, surprisingly. But she wasn't sure she liked it, the Blues. They were small ponds, full of small people playing up their roles in the great scheme of things. Petty kings who believed they mattered to those in the Grand Line, to those in Mary Geoise, and it disgusted her to think she might cross this people.

Nicolas suggested to take it slow, to build themselves step by step until they were solid as rock. But she couldn't take that, they held an edge over everyone, something not even the Five Elders or the Fleet Admiral had and that was information. Knowledge.

They knew secrets and plans and locations they had no reason to, they knew of agents that were deep in enemy territory, of plots that were ticking like bombs. If they allowed the world to carry on without them their edge would dull until it was but a misery and would be left with naught else but regret. And regret wasn't for her.

She wanted money, she wanted to sate the gaping hole that was left when she had everything ripped from her. She wanted respect, and recognition, to be worth something, and everything else that she set her eyes on. And a family. She wanted a family most of all, to carve a spot from the world for them.

With her mind already set on what it was that they needed, what was they were going to do, she spoke with the determination of making it with him. Of taking her brother with her.

"No, we are leaving. We are taking to the sea, to the Grand Line. Nico, we know enough to press everyone we want to do what we want, we can get anything right now. But it needs to be now, so tell me, would you set sail with me?"

He looked at her with a raised brow, lips curved downwards, and nose pinched. She didn't feel like would like his answer.

"You think I would let you go on your own? That we are going to split up when we are all we have? If you are leaving then I am too, I don't think anyone would join you if they had to deal with you alone,"

He smiled and pulled her into a hug that crushed the cat between them and made it scratch wildly for freedom.

"What is it that dad always said about the Esquirlas?"

It was actually their grandfather and his brothers that had made the creed, back when they were all pilots and were sent to the Falklands, all for an island that was worth nothing and for people worth even less.

And they spoke together, voices melding as they recited the family's creed.

"Shrapnel sticks together, and splits up to hurt the enemy,"

The sadness of remembering their parents made them tear up some, but the happiness of having each other made them laugh and slap each other through it. The cat looking at them suspiciously while crouched a ways away from all the noise.

When they had cried enough and laughed enough they sat there and watched the door slowly open. Showing Itse standing outside.

"I came back when I heard that scream, but it looks like I worried for nothing,"

She spoke without missing a beat, her voice always so full of strength and energy that it made her jealous of it. Nicolas laughed nervously at the mention of that mating call he makes daily.

"That was Nico waking up,"

"Well, at least we know that your lungs are alright,"

She snorted at that last comment, Itse had surely rushed all the way from the noise if the sheen of sweat on her forehead was any tell.

"What time is it anyways?"

"I had to cut my training short, so it should be eight in the morning now,"

He got up from his seat with nerves clear in how he had to clear his voice a few times to speak.

"Then I will make breakfast, if that's fine by you,"

"Of course, it is. You know where everything is already, don't you?"

"Yes, I looked around last night while I was cooking. Then, what would you like?"

Itse was using a damp cloth to scrub the sweat off her face as she considered the question, her head tilting from one side to the other like a trembling branch. While she thought, Martina called what she wanted without a second thought.

"Make me some hot rum,"

"No,"

Came his short and cutting answer, and she looked at him dead in the eye. Challenging him to tell her she couldn't drink, but the oaf just ignored it or didn't care enough to not say it.

"You drank too much last night, last thing I want is for you to end up with Cirrhosis,"

She bristled at that, she was fine as could be. She had more health check ups than anyone in the family and each and every one of them came with results that showed her liver was strong enough to filter kerosene.

"I will have the same as her then,"

Itse spoke with a smile and winked at her, clearly understanding she was hardier than he thought. She may not be as bad as she first thought then.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	7. Chapter 7

Yohohoho, the followers are growing. They are growing!

A shout out to those in Italy and Argentina! I raise my fernet to you people.

* * *

She took a sip from her mug and felt the cold coffee drown the heat of the early morning, then came the twitch of rum that woke her up and put a nice fire in her belly. It was a decent drink, with about a mug more of rum it would be an excellent one, she thought complacently as Nico started preparing his own breakfast.

A ticket to diabetes was the only way to call what he had every morning, coffee made entirely out of milk, with nutmeg and enough sugar to make a cake or two and cocoa, two dollops of the stuff. Fortunately, there was none to be found in Itse's home.

The three of them settled in the dwarfish table in front of her bed, the cat refusing to leave her side after she had fed it some of the tiger's meat despite Nicolas' objections of giving it his cooking. Foolish man, the cat deserved it.

"Itse, is there a town or a village nearby?"

The woman in question took her time answering the question, pausing for a second while she was drinking to look at her and then back at her drink. She took things slow, she had realized, took everything at her own pace and let the rest wait.

"There is, of course, I know no one that would choose to live in a deserted island mind you. At least not by choice,"

"And where is it? If you don't mind telling,"

"My, my, what's the hurry? Are you already bored of keeping company to this old woman?"

Bored wasn't quite the word she would use when speaking about her, annoying, exasperating, teasing, those she could use.

"We need to buy things, sell the fur from the tiger, and then get a newspaper. If we can,"

"That same fur your brother left caking in the sun?"

"Shit,"

And they both cursed, and sighed, defeated, there went their chance of getting their hands on their first few bills. Why did she think she could leave it to him to handle the parts he couldn't eat, and then came the memory of a soft rum that washed away her worries and she shrugged. It was worth it.

Itse gave them both a smile, that same smile she showed when they met yesterday that showed none of her teeth and all of her thoughts. Her amusement, her joy, her everything in a single curve.

"Not to worry, not to worry. You left it at night and I took care of it before the sun came up. Took off the bits of meat and rolled it up in a bag with bug killer. Should be ready to be brushed by noon,"

And they both sighed in relief, and she grumbled for the scare. Nico simply kept eating contentedly after finding out everything was alright, sometimes she thought, it would be nice to be so simple for a minute or so, maybe.

"Then, about that town. Can you tell us where it is now?"

"Better yet, I will take you there. I need to sell my furs already and need to see my grandkids. The little things might have forgotten they have a grandma already,"

"We could use some help selling ours too, if it isn't too much to ask,"

Nico finally added himself to the conversation, the plates and the mug already spotless clean sitting in front of him. Much to the cat's chagrin as it padded over to his side, looking for a crumb or something to nibble on.

"I will buy it from you, right now. Fur like that needs some extra care to be worth something and I don't think you know how to do it,"

"How much for it?"

"Eighty thousand berries,"

Martina worked the number in her head, the fucking coin of this world was awfully devaluated, it was worth most nothing and that price could be on the low side for all she knew. Low even for what she was selling.

"Hundred and twenty thousand, we had to pick it up twice because someone chased us round,"

"We? When did you lift the damn thing?"

"I am doing business right now, so shush,"

Nico looked like he wanted to say something, face pinched and angry, veins almost popping on his forehead. He hated that, being dismissed that is, hated disrespect in general but being dismissed simply made him explode but Itse interrupted him before he could flip.

"I am including expenses in my price. Hosting you, children, doesn't come easy to my pocket. I am but a lonely woman on a mountain you wouldn't take the pittance I am making from this, would you?"

"She would collect money from a kid if they asked her to buy them candy,"

Martina fixed him with a glare through her squinted eyes, and he smirked, that stupid half smile he always kept around to look smug.

"It's a hundred thousand here, all you need to do is give it one last treatment and its over. We did the rest of the work,"

"Again. We?"

"Would you stop being so petty? I am trying to get some money here,"

"You would have an easier time if you spoke with property, saying he lugged it, he skinned it,"

"He left it in the sun,"

"That's a one mistake,"

"That's enough. I am paying you ninety thousand, and that's only because you two make me laugh, what do you say?"

She could feel there was still some money to be had, could almost smell it, but she let it rest. They were being hosted here, after all, wouldn't do to be kicked out.

"Okay, we will take the ninety-five thousand,"

Martina could see Itse chewing on her lip, trying hard not to smile, trying hard to laugh, and failing to hide the radiance of enjoyment that struck her eyes like the sun. She had been using that to see how far she could push it, how much she could get, and the only time it had dulled was when they had argued with Nico. Whatever was the reason for that, was none of her business.

"I am going to give you ninety- two thousand, just to make you stop haggling,"

"Very well then,"

And Itse laughed as she spoke of how greedy young people are, about how people go for everything when they have nothing and other nonsense. She wasn't greedy, not in the least, she simply knew what she wanted and took it for herself and if when she opened her hand there was more than what she expected at first then that was a matter to celebrate. The joy of a happy surprise.

"Then, if you aren't going to keep trying scam me I will get myself clean and then we can leave for Usato,"

Time went by in a flash as they kept bickering with her brother about bad manners, about what to buy, and shouting about not feeding the cat anymore. As if he knew if the poor thing was hungry or not. Until Itse finally came back, dressed in a cotton shirt that cut a pretty view of her cleavage, soft leather pants, and trench boots that looked far too hot for her but still fit perfectly the image of wildness she had going for her. She would need to see if they sold those somewhere in Usato, they looked comfortable for all manners of places.

The trek went by fast, at least for her, Nico lugged around the back of their march, slower than either of them and having trouble in the steep slopes. On the other hand, Martina was fast as wind, no matter how steep, how rock-strewn or pot fill was the road she walked as if on flat ground. The roots and the boulders could have been blades of grass for all the trouble they brought her, and she had a good idea of what was at work here, that Skill of hers, that same thing she had dismissed and jeered was showing her wrong.

To ignore terrain, to ignore any and all changes around you, that was one hell of a support Skill. And she wondered where was the limit on it, would it work on sand and snow, would it aid her once she learnt Geppo in walking in the air and the water? The limits were blurry for her, but that was only for now, one day, she promised, she would cross the skies and ride the clouds.

Once she was over the hill she saw it, a town made of stones piled on each other with a single road of concrete that split the buildings and carved the place in half, cutting it in two like the place was made on two crags facing each other like bitter enemies. A view worth being a postal or something of the like, surely.

"Can you ease the pace? I am still dragging this on my back here, I can't run!"

"And I still think its embarrassing to agree being a mule for some spices,"

"There is that and the fact we owe her. Owe her big, and you aren't helping to pay that when you haggle,"

"She doesn't mind the money a bit, if she did she would have been harder on me when I tried to raise the bar,"

"Doesn't matter if she doesn't care, its bad manners to take advantage from someone that helped us,"

She rolled her eyes at him, and vaulted down the slope, the cat following close by her feet, excitement trailing it as they raced down and reached Itse who she could simply not pass. Every single time she had tried to over take her she would find her back farther down the road, like a mirage, always goading her onwards, always just a bit away. Except now, now that they were close to town she stopped moving like a specter and let her reach her.

"Tired of running already? Thought you would reach the city first and then check on us,"

"I have no money, so why torture myself with looking at things I can't have,"

"Such are the pains of the poor and the destitute,"

"Woe be me,"

Nicolas finally caught up to the two of them after they had slowed to a walk, the wooden rack on his back jingling from time to time when he moved the leather straps to a more comfortable position. And so they entered the town, with no checks, no guards, no nothing but the great road and the starts of civilization. She found it strange, to have no security posted around, no kind of protection.

"Isn't this place too exposed? Too undefended?"

"Don't worry yourself, boy, there is no one to steal here and nothing worth the stealing. You will find more security in places near the Red Line where there are actual pirates and money,"

They passed by a street vendor that blew a kiss at Itse and offered her a free skewer that Nicolas took after thanking him for the offer, leaving the man glaring holes on the back of his head.

"Seems like tempting fate to me,"

"Maybe, but this is a place that breeds hard people for some reason. No pirate gets farther than the quay before being pummeled by a mob, the city takes the bounties and puts it into keeping it nice and clean for us. Pirates mean money here, not trouble,"

"So, a city of bounty hunters then?"

"Just a side job for everyone, if they come that's fine but we don't go looking for them,"

Nico whistled at that, to make hunting people a side job that was a new kind of part time workers alright.

"Well then, we are here. Pass me the crate and I will see you two later,"

"We will go with you,"

"Nothing of that now. I need no distractions when dealing with this snake or we might all lose money,"

And she took hold of the straps in one hand and shouldered her way into the building like a battering ram through a gate, leaving them alone and without much to do but look around. Nico looked at her with a mouthful of meat and shrugged before walking to a shop that looked like an armory, all full of blades behind glasses and guns on stands and nails on the walls.

But what took her eyes, her attention, her everything were the revolvers. All lined up and pretty, drums laid bare by the side, the stocks varnished and polished to a gleam, and the steel glinting teasingly in the light.

Why, Itse was most certainly right, looking and not buying was almost a pain in her heart when she looked at them. But it was a damn good inspiration to aim higher.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	8. Chapter 8

Reads review. Wow, doing me a happiness.

Welp, building my people some more here.

* * *

Nicolas could not say what was it that had forced him into that shop. Only thing he knew was that there was a charm on him, some kind of sorcery that pulled him there, it was a soft hand that led him by the nose to the barrel full of blades. There was most anything inside, all crammed together in that small tube of wood and iron, he could see longswords that even slanting peeked out and reached his waist. There were curved and straight blades, some sported points that twisted into barbs or hooks and others were but a single line that glinted in the sun.

But there were two that caught his eyes, the rest were but ornaments that stressed the beauty of their simplicity. The first one was a big, single-edged knife, its blade flowed and turned into a squared grip that twisted upwards like a tail to become the guard.

There was an irony there that stood out for him, to use the same steel that would bleed the opposition to keep oneself from harm. It was a gripping idea for him, one that almost had him give the knife a test swing inside the shop, almost. And almost was too close by half for him, the thought of hurting someone for a moment of distraction saw him putting it hurriedly back in the barrel he had found it in and moving slightly away.

His mind saw it fit to let him look what he could have done and he shuddered at the thought.

"That's a Bohemian, if you interested in it,"

The man behind the counter he had ignored till that point spoke to him, his voice a soft thing that was sweet to the ears. So in disagreement with the rest of his body, a jaw that was sharp and solid as an ingot and a great many expression lines covered the rest of his face, almost hiding his black eyes. His hair was a mass of grey ropes that came done in a big knot at the back of his head, holding them from dropping below his waist by a smidgen. He could see the kind of problems you would run into if he didn't do his hair before going to the bathroom.

"I was just looking, didn't mean to take it up,"

"Didn't ask what you were doing, I am telling you what kind of blade it is. First thing a person should know about them,"

"Then, thank you,"

He commented awkwardly, didn't seem like the man cared much for what he had to say if the way he just kept to his work was any tell. Not once did he put down the knife he was sharpening while he spoke.

"Second thing is the size. A Bohemian blade is about sixty-five centimetres long to a common man, with your size it should be around eighty-five if you want to be able to grip it right,"

The man gave the blade a test, thumbed the edge from the point to the handle and allowed himself a small smile before looking up and letting it go.

"You can lift and give any blade here a try, won't charge you for that. So enjoy, maybe you will do more than looking if you try enough of them,"

"Could you tell me then what is the name of this kind of blade?"

He picked up the other one that had interested him with care, one hand in the grip and the other on the steel proper. He kept his fingers tight on both places, almost scared that his terrible fantasy would come alive, as he raised the short sword. It was similarly simple in design, straight and with a single edge, but had a cross guards and a wooden handle that was curved like the bend in a dog's leg.

"A Cleaver Knife, simple, effective, and just as cheap as the Bohemian you grabbed before. Again, you need it to be bigger,"

"Do you have any bigger?"

There was a strange something in his face when Nicolas asked him, as if he was happy he asked and annoyed he had.

"You won't find a shop around that doesn't sell for half giants like you two, too much money lost. Come I have the bigger blades at the back,"

"Let me just tell my sister,"

"I am a meter away from you, think I am deaf or something? Go and try not to buy anything till we have some money on us,"

Martina shooed him without looking away from the gun in her hands, she had opened the display to get to it and he wasn't sure the man's offer of grabbing what they wanted went that far. She was happy watching the drum spin round and round, making it click back in position with a flick of her wrist before testing the hammer. Making sure to never cock it all the way before releasing it nice and slow, least she was mindful when handling them, for all that was worth.

It was a good sign that the shopkeeper didn't bat an eye when he looked at her, he didn't seem to have many concerns past keeping his knives sharp and nice. If the way they were all perfectly lined up behind the counter was any tell, Nicolas counted eight at a glance when he moved to follow him through the thinning pieces of leather that were supposed to partition the front of the shop from the back.

There were three steps down that he covered in one stride having missed them, by some luck he managed to get his balance back and avoid crashing against the stone floor and giving the owner any reason to smile any wider. When he looked up after having cleared his throat and some of the shame, he saw a room lined with racks and shelves, the floor littered with stands that held arms and armour of every and all kinds.

There were perhaps enough blades and spikes and wood to start an army or if the need called arm every man, woman, and child living in Usato.

"Stop looking around, it's all just steel and wood without a thought. No love, no soul in them, just scrap for emergency or when money starts to dry,"

"It is a collection for me, can't see a piece of scrap around,"

"The trash of one is the treasure of another, I guess. Get here, this is where the short swords are,"

He was brought before a wall that had so many nails and screws driven into it that the cracks in the plaster had become but a great web of black racing from the shadows of one weapon to the next. As if every piece of steel was prey of a monster from myth or legend, like flies waiting for the spider to come.

"This is a Bohemian and a Cleaver for little giants like you. See the difference?"

And he was briskly handed both weapons, they were as long as his arms and he had to be careful not to let the point scrape against the ground as he pulled himself away from the owner and reached the middle of the room. He lifted them both and cut the air with one, then with the other, heard the whistle that came from the movement and wanted to test them on something. He wanted to cut, to use them as it was proper and see how much resistance wood would pose, how much resistance an animal would pose or a person.

His hands clenched on the grips, the leather shifting as he put more strength into them, trying hard to banish that thought. But the more he tried the more solidly it settled at the front of his mind, he had thought of testing the iron on someone. He had thought of harming just to test a tool, to test himself, it was wrong and revolting. The sickness was almost real as his gut twisted as he gave up the weapons and looked at the wall so full of them.

"Thank you for letting me try them, I am most grateful,"

"You don't look the part. Want me to call you a doctor?"

"No, I will be fine. Just got a bad feeling,"

"If you say so. Come back when you feel better and have the money, if you don't see me at the counter just ask for a package from Cafra,"

He gave Cafra a flaking smile that started to come undone as he walked away and was but a frown when he got to the front of the shop again, Martina must have seen the look on his face because she followed him outside. And when they found a place to sit down she stood staring firmly at him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Nothing my ass. You go in looking happy like a fat kid in a chocolate factory and you come out looking like someone killed your pet, so speak. What happened?"

"Nothing, Martina. Just a something I thought about that soured my mood,"

"Well, you thinking is a big thing. So speak because we aren't moving from here unless you do,"

"You want to bet?"

"I will twist your balls if that is what it takes to have you sing,"

"You wouldn't,"

"You said the same thing that time you found dad's health check, and you sang like Pavarotti,"

Wincing at that memory he remained seated and quiet, gnashing his teeth together. It was embarrassing for him to say it, to come out with his petty worries when they had worse to think about. When they had a voyage to think about. But in the end he spoke, unwillingly, because he knew they would waste more time just sitting there testing each other.

Thankfully she kept a straight face throughout, he didn't think he could unclamp his mouth if she were to laugh.

"I am worried about not staying a good person. Of shaming dad and mom after the length they went to teach us how to do right by others,"

"You fucking idiot,"

She spat the words with as much scorn as she possibly could, and that was something when she did it.

"You think that what we are can be changed so fucking easily? That you, stubborn and pig headed as you are, can change your ways so easily?"

Pausing to let the words sink in she looked ready to punch him right there and thought otherwise, she sighed instead and massaged the sides of her head.

"There is a saying for that, you know? The view itself of arms incites to their abuse, meaning that its up to us to reign ourselves in when we come across these thoughts. And look at you, think that someone that would act on such things would storm away about to cry because he thinks he will turn into a bad person?"

"No need to say it like that,"

"No? And how am I going to get it through that thick head of yours if I don't say it bluntly? Want me to be softer? How about this then,"

She pursed her lips mockingly, let her eyes slant as if she was about to cry and spoke in a high tone as if she was twelve and dumb.

"My big brother couldn't never ever become a mean bad guy, he is too nice for that. I believe in him,"

He let his face sink into his hands as she coughed from taking her pitch so high. God smite him if he didn't think it was a dumb thing to speak to her halfway through, but still there was something lighter in him after hearing her talk and that phrase had stuck to him. It was simple and true enough, it was something to live by and it was another ward to himself by.

"If you ever think you are turning into a bad guy tell me, I will beat the devil out of you,"

And he snorted at that strange way she had of comforting others.

"Maybe I will take you up on that,"

His head bent sideways and the sound of her slap ringed in his head as he looked up, eyes almost popping and teeth clenched. That was most certainly uncalled for.

"Thought I saw some evil there,"

He perished the thought of talking to the woman of his problems in the future, much less if she got her hands on those revolvers she clearly wanted. He didn't fancy getting pistol-whipped for using her as a psychologist.

They both waited for Itse at the park they had found, him frowning at everything after being smacked and her almost singing, her head dancing a small jig to show her good humour. Even when her sight irritated him he let his curiosity speak through the bile, he could still feel her fingers on his scalp.

"Where does the saying come from?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. Its from _The Odyssey_ by Homer,"

"And why does he write that? Is he giving a lesson or something?"

"Nope, Odysseus tells Telemachus to give a speech about how having a sword while drunk can get someone killed. Its all a ruse so that the enemy gives up their weapons and make it easier to slit their throats,"

"Then what you told me means nothing then,"

"It's written by a Greek, you don't expect moral lessons from them just good phrases. I personally like _Even a fool learns something once it hits him_ ,"

Before he could put his thoughts in words about what she could do with that phrase, Itse arrived with a smile on her face a pep to her step as well as an army of children following close behind her. All of them had one treat or another on their hands and he wondered where the little girl to the right bought that humongous cookie she was nibbling on.

"Children, I want to present you my grandchildren. Grandchildren, this are you Nana's guests,"

And it was mayhem after that, both of them were assaulted by an onslaught of grubby hands and messy questions. Asking how he was so tall, how he tied his shoes, and if he used his shirt as a table cloth. At one point he started lifting them and throwing them up in the air much to their delight and Martina's distress, so he did what he could to throw them even higher.

They had lost track of time at some point and the children started complaining, kicking up a fuss that they were tired, rubbing their eyes and yawning after the sugar high settled down. Itse turned to them when her line of ducklings was all accounted for.

"Well then, we are going to be having a snack before heading back and starting on dinner. Is there anything you two want to eat?"

"We are grateful for the invitation but we will buy our things and head back, there are still some things we need to do,"

"You would leave these frail bones to care for these Sea Kings?"

"I am sorry Itse, but we must,"

"Fine then, but be sure not to get lost. And if you do just stay at one place and I will find you two when I go home,"

"We will try our best not to bother you with that,"

They said their goodbyes at the park, Itse and her grandchildren, that looked nothing like her, went towards the piers while they bought what they needed and headed back through the forest. Back where they knew there would be no one to see them train, see them use the Marine Powers. And he let himself chuckle at that, he was going to make sure Martina trained like her life was on the line.

That at least he promised, even if it was to get even a little.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	9. Chapter 9

My muse hits like a shovel to the face~

So here, an update on an off day~

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"Just hold on thirty seconds more,"

"Make it ten or I am going to die when this falls on me,"

"Don't worry I am here to catch it if you buckle,"

Martina's neck was split in a hundred fluttering little muscles as her veins and nerves surfaced from the strain placed on her, it was like looking at a cloth stretched thin on a bundle of tense wires. She had managed to hold completely still for a full four minutes and half with the trunk of a tree weighing her shoulders down, just by using Tekkai. It was a good start and Nicolas was proud of her, if a little chagrined by her nonstop cussing. Smart and knowledgeable as she was there was not a stain of manners in his sister.

"Just ten more seconds,"

"I will break in five. Fuck's sake,"

"There,"

Lifting the wood of her shoulders she remained in a horse stand for a second before her legs folded under her and left her seating the Japanese way.

"I will take tomorrow as my rest day,"

"There are no rest days for us, we are leaving in a month. Remember?"

"At least we aren't going on a diet,"

"Even if I told you there was one you wouldn't care,"

"Its good you understand. Saves me the time of telling you to fuck off,"

He sighed and scratched his shaved-stubble hair, it was getting to that point where he would need to find a razor to get it back to just skin. He hated his hair, hated it to the root, hated how thick it was and how it always stood on end, how it always made him look like he was wearing a bright, yellow helmet when he let it grow.

Had tried to let it get long, like his sister's that ended up looking like the mane of a lion, but never had had the patience to wait for it. And he wondered where he would be able to buy one, and if he would be able to get one with a grip of ivory or some other expensive nothing.

"Sleeping beauty, what you thinking about?"

"Just that I forgot to buy some things and that we don't have enough for what I want,"

"What would you want? A bigger fridge?"

There was no reason to answer that, he was too spent to keep reacting to her fat jokes. How would she know if he was fat when she was half his size, his crumbs were bigger than her lunch. It was all a matter of perspective.

"Do you think you are ready for some hunting?"

"What?"

He asked, taken by surprise by the sudden question.

"Hunting. Think you can handle another trek to the mountain after today?"

"Why would we go there when it's almost night? Do you want a tiger to get you this time?"

"Well, we need the money. And we aren't going to level just by training,"

"You don't know that. We know nothing about the system, we can't even call our character sheets or anything. And we can hunt in the morning, when we can see,"

"We can see right now, and I was looking for animals ever since you started making me dodge and hold my position. If I didn't know you better I would even say you enjoyed trying to slap me,"

"Focus on what's important, how far is it? I am not going to camp in the wild if I can help it,"

"I don't want to sleep on animal shit either, it's over there,"

She got up and pointed at pointed somewhere behind them, and he didn't know if she was pointing at the file of trees some steps away or at the middle of that bastard of a mountain that almost tickled the clouds with its peak. One he wasn't going to climb, not for all the ivory razors in the world.

When he let his paranoia be known, she snorted, ugly and crass as only she could make a sound and told him that it was a way past the trees and that she had no chance of reaching even the foot of the mountain with her level in Observation. Last thing he needed to know to make a choice was what would she have them chase, because if there was a chance that they would meet a pack of somethings they weren't going.

"Don't know. But its small and shouldn't be much a problem, and we aren't going to kill it so you don't complain,"

"Then why are we going?"

"An experiment and a surprise, so you in?"

He nodded, unwillingly, he just couldn't let the idiot go alone. Simply couldn't because he knew that he would dig a pit in his stomach worrying and thinking of what could be, better to be there and be of help than to eat with guilt sitting in his gut. It would also do to get something to hold over her head later on. To keep her in line, just in case she got cocky.

It was hot. Hot and humid and full of bugs in the bushes where Martina, him, and the stupid cat were squatting behind. All three of them were silent as graves, even the animal had somehow felt that it was not the time to try to bite him and kept still, his fingers tight on the branch he had picked up and felt as the uneven bark dug into his palm. But he also felt the life in the forest, the twittering birds sweeping down from time to time, the bugs biting them and then everything else near them, and the boar was sniffing a tree and digging up its roots. That was their prey, that was what he had to capture, not kill but capture. A task worth a hero that was, to put down that hunched lump of muscles with tusks that punched their way through its snout and branched out like a deer's antlers. He had half a mind to pick both his companions and use them as bait in case it saw them, but the other half kept itself cold and told him the monster was the weaker one here.

When that cold piece of him told him that it was close enough, he sprung forward, a Soru brought him right in front of it before it could raise its head and without even getting to look at him he brought his club down on its thick head. The now black branch split the skin of its forehead and almost sunk its skull before he pulled back, already lifting his weapon and readying for another swing in case the first one hadn't been enough. The hog stirred and tried to use one of its legs to haul itself up but a blow to the side of the head had it frothing at the mouth and squealing bloody murder, and he was almost sure that had taken the life from it if it weren't for the slow rise and fall of its chest.

He reckoned there was something there, about the capture, there was an art in clubbing someone just this way from oblivion. Letting them comfortably fall into coma.

Martina came out from the shrub quickly and with knife in hand while her little minion followed closely while licking its jowls.

"Come on, let's be quick. Grab its legs in case it wakes up,"

"Why in hell would I do that?"

"I have a theory, can you grab it while I explain?"

Bunching up its legs he held on to them tight, like it was the rope his life hung by as she started putting a cut in its hind leg that went from its rump to the first joint. He could see its chest fall and rise with more haste and strange sounds started to escape, as if it was having a nightmare and he juggled with the idea of giving it another whack for good measure.

"Well. I was thinking about how easily you got your [Chef] class. You did nothing fancy like cook for a connoisseur, so I got the idea that if I heal someone I just might get the [Doctor] class that is due to me,"

"And why do you have to hurt it before healing it? Why didn't you try someone from Usato?"

"Who in their right mind would trust me to heal their loved ones? And who has the time to wait for someone to get injured, better to cut and sew and get the class and work from there,"

"Why couldn't you go for patching my bruises or something else,"

"Because I might end up with the [Nurse] class, and I will pierce my nipples before getting labelled as a fucking [Nurse] after all I studied,"

He looked at her slightly taken aback by the sheer need of being recognized by this system, that ambition that drove her to this, there were many ways he could think of to get the class. To take her time and build up from there instead of charging forward like mad, and he shook his head as he thought of the more likely result of all this.

"You are going to get either [Veterinarian] or [Sadist] for this. I am sure of it,"

"If I get [Veterinarian] it will be easier to diagnose a cow like you and Puma,"

"Puma? You named the damn thing already,"

"Its staying with us, and his name is Puma Loco. Just so you know,"

"Why didn't you call him White Pantera for that,"

"Cause he ain't white. You colour blind fool,"

She marked the end of her sentence with a strong pull of the metal wire that turned the boar's hide into an ugly wrinkle the size of his arm, she had gone overboard with that cut, but she only gave it a satisfied nod and slapped the wound like a job well done before getting up. And the hog chose that precise moment to stir awake, it eye fluttering open in a moment that made him freeze in fright. Without thinking and before it started to fight him he stood up, legs still twined between his fingers, and lifted the beast off the ground before lobbing it away from them. It squealed madly and flailed in the air before locking eyes with him, as if saying, what hath I done to thee, before disappearing between the hazy shapes of the trees and sounding further and further away.

"Think there was a crevice there,"

The screams were cut off by the sick sound of stone meeting flesh.

"You think?"

"Almost certain. Why don't you jump just to be sure,"

He gave her a hollow laugh and stalked off into the gloom, he had worked hard to keep it alive and then he had gone and thrown it over a crag. This would need a hefty meal to forget, tiger cooked in beer with mushrooms was the only way to get him to smile again. Why, he could already feel the sides of his mouth lifting at the thought, in the end good food was his only remedy.

Later, fed like kings and rested, they sat outside the house. Him rolling the butt of his cigarette between his fingers and her nursing a bottle and the cat, a Caracal she called it, in her breast. There was a nice breeze that gifted them a nice cold, it came from their right and it crept a hundred knolls to reach them from the sea where it was born. Where they would go in but a month, and that idea filled him with worry, the sea was something foreign. A great big nothing, that unlike the desert, had even more nothing below where something could come up, it was terrifying and still it filled his chest with excitement. He could not wait for the day to come but still feared with all his being, first they didn't know where to get a ship and he reasoned they would start by stealing one, which didn't sit well by him, then they would need to learn to sail it before finally setting a course.

His eyelids started to grow heavy as his full stomach and tired muscles drove his head to a halt, there wasn't even enough time to worry so why bother wasting the night like that, best to sleep and rest and let everything be as it should.

 **Congratulations [Warrior] Class levelled up.**

 **[Warrior] level 2.**

No new Skills it would seem, but that was fine too he wasn't going to worry now.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	10. Chapter 10

For **Soledge:** chapter was their third day. Now a week more less that they got here. Three weeks for Monkey to set sail.

Ugly arrows below, can't change the format here.

* * *

Pieces of a revolver laid neatly on a cloth over the patchy grass of their training grounds, right in front of her crossed legs, she laid down the drum and inspected the cloth so full of black filth she had used to clean it. She made a note to find someone that could tell her where she could buy better powder, instead of the waste riddled thing Itse and her used, cheap stuff but the care ended up making it expensive in oil and dangerous if she had no time to clean up.

Almost without thinking she started putting everything back together, just like Itse taught her some days ago, when it was all done she looked at it. A beauty of a weapon with a heavy barrel, beaten to an octagonal shape that made it stick out from the rest, a drum for six rounds and a grip made most of metal that gave her a good chance of breaking some bones if she struck. If the bullets were not enough that is, or if she had to get even with someone.

But using a gun was no reason to slack on her physical training, didn't matter how many bullets you had if you got taken down for not being able to fall back. She put the unloaded revolver in its holster and started warming up for Soru on the ground, it was but a localized use of the basics as her brother put it. Tekkai and Kami-e alternating between their legs to kick the ground as many times as possible, Tekkai to build strength before kicking out and Kami-e to get the leg back in position in a single motion, using the rebound of the ground, a cycle repeated as many times as possible in the blink of an eye. And the perfect way to break your toes if you didn't reinforce them a moment before striking she had found out on her first try, much to his delight.

It vexed her to no end knowing that her limit remained at three kicks while Nico was at four and about to reach the fifth, she needed to close that gap and overtake him, that was the least she asked of herself. The only reason she was still the faster was because of her Skill and it seemed a bit of a stretch to hope that advantage would remain when he could get one just as easily, just a matter of one of his Class Skills to be related to moving and there was the end of her head start.

Feeling her lungs burn and her legs twitch and spasm in protest she rested herself against the tree Puma had chosen for his self. With a push through the Skill that tied them together he lazily opened an eye and scooted to the side to make room for her before laying his coin of a head on her lap, he was lovely as he was ugly. A sense of indignation trickled in through her [Animal Bond: Puma Loco], and she snorted at the touchy thing, it was a mystery if he could understand her or simply got an intuition for the meaning of her thoughts beyond move, quiet, and attack.

So strange, so bizarre, to think that some days before her idle thoughts went to what to play or where to party and now they were about cat's understanding of her, about how to get Skills and Classes. _Or get rid of them_ , she thought as that stray Class she had picked up popped at the front of her mind, it was shameful to say the least and a secret of the highest order for her, even if that first Skill was interesting.

Looking to the side she could see her brother stalking out the woods, how he had changed too, now dressed in cotton and with leather straps making rounds on his hips, four knives in them sheathes hanging and swinging lazily as he walked. They were each a different blade, on his left there was one little thing long as her pinkie and they grew as they went to the right all the way to a carver that was just this side from being a sword, when he was the one wielding it that is.

"Had some fun with [Deft Hands], didn't you?"

"Had some fun oiling your pipes?"

"Such sharp wit, I'm impressed. Went to eat something to the forest then?"

"Had to check some traps Faithful set around here. Found nothing and then had a snack,"

And she snorted at that too, he had filled every pouch of his with cookies, he called them rations in case they went hunting for too long, but they all ended empty way before they were even half past stalking prey. Another mystery there, how no animal was spooked when mister stone teeth bit down everything with a click of his jaw, it always sounded mighty loud when he did it. He might have even gotten a Class just for that or a Skill more likely, [Sneak Snacking] or something along that line, how incredible would it be if that were how the system worked.

"Faithful is going to Usato again to sell. Do you want to come, I am going,"

"Are you going to finally buy those swords? Or are you going to keep looking at them,"

"It ain't as simple. I have no idea how to use them, what if I hurt myself then? Or you?"

"Well, our spars show you have hard time hurting me and if you hurt yourself I just might get the [Doctor] Class,"

He rolled his eyes and sighed while looking at the clear sky.

"Ok. Are you coming or not?"

"Yes, yes. You have no humour in you lately,"

They made their way back to that beaten up cottage they had gotten to call home these last few days, the walls didn't seem as old or untrusty as she had thought the first time they had gotten here. The inside that had been a tight fit was now a cosy thing when she felt like looking on the sunny side of things, and that old woman with her hateful smile and her tolerable personality, well she could at least talk to her now without being angry. She didn't taunt them as much as when they got here, a small mercy that.

"Well then children, you remember where the house is right?"

"For the last time Itse, we have been there enough to know the way,"

"Maybe, maybe not. Never wrong to ask this kind of things, girl. No matter how many times,"

"We will be fine Faithful,"

"Fine, fine. I can tell you no longer want these old bones with you,"

And with that Martina strode off, she took a turn in that great road she had seen cut the place in half and kicked it to the docks. Left her brother behind to shop for food, for spices, and to stare and yearn for those sticks that he didn't have half the courage to take up. A fool of a worry that which kept him from going for what he really wanted, wondering if he would hurt someone, of course he would, he was wielding a sword. Even if it was a branch he had proven to be deadly still with one. But that was his battle, that was a fight she couldn't help him with and one he needed to get some determination, she couldn't help but worry what would happen if Nico suddenly decided that life at sea wasn't for him.

She was closer now, she could already smell the salt and brim that came with the winds from the open ocean and the smell of fat cooking somewhere near the ships to sell something quick to the sailors that were touching port. She passed through a square where a great statue of a frowning man stood, pointing to someplace lost in the distance. Martina didn't have a clue who he was meant to be, and not even Itse knew when asked, said the giant had been there since she had memory, always holding that sextant and map in its white hands.

When she managed to reach the street that overlooked the wharfs a great wind blasted the port, sent a couple people crouching to avoid being blown off like the leaves and bills on the ground. And she stood there, taking in the everything, the life of the place as men and women scuttled to get their boats fast to the dock, others, those that had gotten to land, were shouting and cursing at each other over a debt to pay and someone's wife having a good night outside the house.

It was a lovely place if you threw away the people, and that was easy enough for her, had worked in places just as bad but never half as scenic. Was used to the men insulting and the women shouting, used to the dirt and grime that they brought and the smell of spilt rotgut and rot in general. Thinking about home she forgot that there were others where she had stopped, and a man tried to shoulder his way past her, only to stumble back when she stood stalwart where she was, almost dropped on his ass if Martina hadn't grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up. Gifting the embarrassed man a cat's smile that was a match to the cat on her shoulders, a smile that told him she knew what he did and greatly enjoyed his shame.

"You are welcome, big guy,"

She almost laughed out loud as he huddled past, head down and shoulders hunched like she had given him a body blow instead of just standing still. The Tekkai was only for the winds, they were quite strong lately.

Patting her shirt off whatever filth the sailor had she strode away from the mouth of the walkway, Puma tugged her arm as he clambered down and onto the ground as they walked to an alley and she could feel the tail she had picked up almost burst in satisfaction. The bright yellow of happiness was dull and dirtied by their intentions, while the purple of lust was thick and clotted as dry blood and just as foul and it was only by keeping her Observation in check like Itse taught her that she avoided being blinded by it.

When they were halfway in she turned around and looked at the four men that strode in with her, all of them had that sorry, nervous look men get when they are up to some mischief and hope that nothing goes wrong. She could feel excitement coiling and roiling from her, almost intoxicating Puma that had hidden behind some crates, it was the right time to try herself. To test herself against the weaker links and enjoy herself maybe.

Her lips gave a twitch of a smile as they gathered in a half circle around her, standing over eye to eye with her. One had a nose so flat against his face it was a wonder how he breathed. Another was bald as a boot with a mat of twined hair in his face that he gave every hint of being proud of, if how he kept carding his fingers through it was any tell. A third and fourth had nothing to be said about them other than one had a length of wood in one hand and the other had his hands deep in his pockets, no doubt with something more dangerous. Not a pretty set of men, not by a long shot, and they didn't have anything pretty in their heads. Except her maybe.

Boot head took a step towards her and spat to a side, gave her a leer that made her gut wrench and spoke low, trying to be scary.

"What you got for us pretty?"

"Disgust. And if you keep talking so close to my face I got my lunch to give you,"

"Think yourself smart, bitch,"

She couldn't help but smile as he puffed his chest and tried looking taller than her, to scare her maybe, but failing and just coming to look her in the eye with some effort. They were so simple, so soft headed, just a sentence and their small pride gets hurt.

"If you got nothing, then your time it is. Yes, we will take that,"

That was woody, with his table leg still in his hand, that spoke from the side as if it was a moment of brilliance that took him and not what they had planned from the start.

"As short a time you lot would keep me, I must refuse. I prefer my men with all their teeth,"

And that was it, that was as far she had to push them, it was always the same, little men always had little fuses no matter where you went. She could see the red of anger pool in boot head's arm and a thin line stretched from it all the way to her cheek, she pushed with her palm at the half point of the thread and met the man's arm, pushing it away from her and making him fall forward. Right where Puma was hiding and right into his claws that raked against his face and put a scream in his mouth that didn't break the noise outside the alley.

Flat face stared at her, unsure and scared by her cat, but woody and hands in pockets had their weapons and that always made little men feel bigger and better than they would ever be, only time they felt bigger was when they used them. Her boot caught the knee of woody and his foot skidded back, not being able to stop the force at all, making him crash against the cobble stone and letting out the wet crack of bone on stone.

Now came hands in pockets that pulled out a blade that was almost as big as Nico's smallest, and it gave him a ghost of a smile when he put it in front of him. He came running at her, not having learnt a thing from woody, and she could see the black that crept to the knife and met with her chest right under her breast.

She had nothing to do as Puma caught his leg and stopped him dead in his tracks, in a show of strength he even dragged him away from her making him scream and roll in pain as his fangs and claws dug deeper into his ankle. Turning him over with her boot she saw the pricker buried in his shoulder, all the way to the hilt and no matter how short it was having a length of something in you was nothing to laugh about. Maybe moan but that was if you were hoping for it.

Martina could feel her smile tug a little higher as flat face went pale at the blood that plastered his friends coat against the wound and hands in pockets started to sweat and turn clammy as he looked at the wooden handle in fear.

She just couldn't help herself when it was this easy.

"That looks bad. Right in the shoulder, and its bleeding bad,"

"What do you mean? Its just the shoulder,"

That was flat face that spoke, the wounded stayed where he was, too scared to do a thing.

"There are arteries there, lots of them, and the moment he moves he will cut it. You will know when he starts pissing blood and it gets on your face,"

"No. He can't die for that, you are lying,"

"No I am not, you are going to die. You are going to die!"

She screamed it in their faces, her face twisting in what she thought was sadness.

"No, no, you need to help him. You can help him can't you? He has family to care for,"

"Of course, I can, but not now. And not after you lot tried to do unspeakable things to me,"

Ohhh, they were so easy. It was a show for her to look at the piss yellow of nerves and the virgin white of fear almost hide his body like a stained priest's tunic. She loved to punish the wicked, it was the one thing every doctor in her hospital enjoyed, to look at muggers and thieves in the eyes as they were going down with anaesthesia and tell them softly they were going to finish what the police couldn't. Their eyes blasting open for a second before they fell unconscious.

"We will pay, we have the bills to pay,"

"How much? Hope its enough to forget the scare you lot gave me,"

"We hav…we have two hundred thousands. Just got payed, so please save him,"

Flat face took the wallets from boot head and woody that were still rolling on the floor and fainted, and gave her the bills inside.

"Okay then, who has some alcohol here?"

"I… I do, in my pocket. To me left,"

Unsurprisingly it was the wounded that spoke, with pockets so deep it was a mystery how he didn't have a rifle hidden there. She fetched the flask, popped the cork and gave it a try, tasted the lemon and the alcohol and the man had some girly tastes to have limoncello of all things, but booze was booze and she downed it in a second.

"What was that for?"

"For my throat, it was a little dry. Ok then, try not to move or you might die,"

A big plate of pig with mushrooms and onions sat in front of her, all cooked in beer and salt, a slab of airy bread sitting besides and getting ripped by the children that swarmed from their places to get the middle and leave the crust for their siblings. Martina tucked the heel of bread she had cut for herself away from them and her brother that was staring at her, already having finished his meal.

"You keep looking at my plate like that and I will spit it,"

"Please don't be disgusting,"

"You are the one that keeps staring like you are going to push me and steal my food. Pre-emptive measures are needed,"

"Ok, ok. Just give me a spoon of mushrooms,"

"That's no spoon, that's a ladle and get away from my plate,"

"Stingy,"

And she smiled at that, not like when she did in the alley but with warmth, she liked it here, liked the liveliness and the soft air that a family had with them. But this wasn't her family, not truly, she was but a guest and she would leave at one point to find them, to find herself those that she would call brothers and sisters, maybe uncles and aunts. Who knew.

Her eyes closed as she rested against the back of the swinging chair she had commandeered from Itse and the children, they could have the couch. Puma's rumble lulling her softly and surely into sleep.

 **Congratulations [Ranger] Class levelled up.**

 **[Ranger] level 5.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Craft Ammunition] learnt.**

 **[Craft Ammunition] - ) [Blunt Heads]**

 **[Craft Ammunition] - ) [Explosive Heads]**

 **Congratulations [Doctor] Class levelled up.**

 **[Doctor] level 1.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Sterile Equipment] learnt.**

So much to try and have fun and so little time. But sleep took priority, she could experiment and celebrate her Class and Skills later, no matter how excited she was about them the meal in her belly weighed more.

* * *

Script: JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS VANILLA (Me)

Edit: LET ME MIX THAT CREAM (Me)

Proofread: I WILL CHURN YOUR BUTTER (Still Me)


	11. Chapter 11

Don't think, review.

* * *

"Press forward, children! Don't be shy with me,"

Shouted Itse from in between them, and Martina was only too willing to oblige. She sprang forward, lunging with her right and aiming at her wrist before giving up as Itse's cane came right for her head. On the other side Nico grunted as his swing was parried and was jabbed in the ribs with the reinforced point.

Martina could feel her breath rasping against her throat, her arms that were held up by sheer will, and her legs that were about ready to buckle, spasming from time to time like a small seizure. She held herself together simply by the threat that the old woman posed and all the pain she promised if they slacked.

Itse stood on the beam, resting her weight on her cane and looking at them in turn, she let her head give that little dance like a taunting snake before taping the wood twice as if checking how solid it was.

"You have enough space to dance on top of this thing and you two are so shy of falling that you keep turtling up. So tell me, do you two want me to strike those shells?"

Itse grinned across at them. She was loving it. Absolutely loving it, damn her.

They both went at it, her left knife cut into a curve towards the back of her knee while the right one was kept by her side to parry or block a blow. There was naught a mistake or a quiver in her arm as she slashed, the point aimed true to where she wanted to thanks to her [Steady Aim] but even with all the Skills she fell short. Without a notice her forearm was pinned between the beam and the cane and with a small twist that made her muscles bunch up and scream she dropped her weapon, following it shortly to the ground before staring upwards.

Nico stabbed at her from the side and turned it into a swing with just his wrist when he missed, Itse ducked under the motion and crossed his face with the stick before stabbing his ankle and pushing it off the beam. He fell like a drunk down the stairs, his back foot caught on the beam as the other one went down, his thigh and hip smacked soundly against the wood and he ended up sprawled on the grass under the bar they were fighting on.

The both of them refused to move an inch, taking as much air as they could before Itse prodded them with the branch she had taken a fancy to. Martina wondered if it had been a mistake or an excellent idea to ask the insufferable _lady_ for help when his training started to fall behind their capabilities. It could be that good ideas require pain and sacrifice, but when the sacrifice became torture her resolution flaked a bit.

Their days were plagued with studying and training, to begin the day running up and down mountains and hills, weighted down by boulders like a pair of slaves. They then tied their bodies to a dingy that they had to tow as far as possible from the island, once there their lessons on how to use sextants and maps began and when they ended it was back into the sea. Only to finish with sparring over a beam against a New World pirate and be beaten black and blue and green. She was positive she looked like a flag with all these colours.

"I don't know what you are going to do when you have to fight on board if you can't handle a frail woman on land,"

She was done hearing her jabs, she was done three days ago when she ended up with two black eyes, so she spat at Itse from her place on the ground. She could have sworn a chip of a tooth went with that.

"Frail my ass, we saw you take down a gorilla twice Nico's size with a knife,"

"Oh, well. You know what they say, women can pull great strength in times of need. I must have been so scared I used everything I had,"

"Like hell you did,"

She sat up and ignored how her everything hurt, massaging a bad spot in her neck that felt as if someone had put a knotted rope under her skin. She must have pulled that dodging something. Looking at Itse as she took the cookie Nico offered her, she wondered out loud.

"How come I can't see your attacks with Haki?"

"I meditate,"

"And that means?"

Neck going limp as it started to sway softly to a silent tune, Itse kept them waiting until she finished her butter cookie with delight.

"Observation Haki is all about perception. You two, for example, have already taken the first step forward when you learnt how to project your intentions indiscriminately. Martina as if my very own shadow would strike me down and Nicolas as if a boulder was resting on me,"

She must have been talking about their Aura, she thought. A Skill they both shared, if to different effects, and it had come with their last levelling, the seventh. [Veteran's Aura] for him and [Stalker's Aura] for her, she hated the name and had lied and told him it was [Hunter´s Aura] instead. She couldn't be blamed for censoring such an embarrassing thing.

"But you are only changing the perception of your enemy, not of yourself. To hide your intentions, on the other hand, you need think nothing of the fight, take it as if everything is already set in stone. As if it doesn't concern you and hold no anger when hit and no pride when you strike,"

They both chewed on her words, they didn't think that Itse had it in her to be philosophical. Martina didn't think she even knew the word. The metal tip tapped her hard in the crown and made her wince.

"I don't need Haki to tell you just thought something rude,"

Tipping the bottle just a little further she eyed the last drop lazily roll down, it started racing forward once it was past the neck and she savoured the last of it letting it sit in her mouth for a second. It seemed they needed to buy more limoncello, she thought as she let the bottle rest on the floor together with the rest.

"That is the last you drink for today,"

"If you don't smoke, I don't drink. That's the deal,"

He hesitated for a second and bit on his cigar, a monster of a thing that stunk the whole place and then some around the house.

"No. This is the only one I had today, that is the fourth bottle this hour,"

"And yet I feel like I could go roll down a hill and not wretch,"

"There is nothing to be proud of in that sentence,"

A snort took them both by surprise and it turned into an ugly cackle as they both reached for their belts. She didn't know what Nico was going for, there were only his pouches there. Offer a sugar cube to the assailant and hope they were diabetic maybe.

"Peace, peace. It's just me,"

"We can see that,"

She commented dryly just as the old woman made her scoot over and let her sit together with them at the table. Puma grumbled and left to sleep on her couch as he was rudely awoken by all the moving chairs. Poor thing, she almost felt pity.

"A drink?"

Martina offered. Pulling a bottle from behind her, complete with three glasses. Nico pushed his away with the tip of his finger, as if it was stained by things untold.

"I am not drinking until I know where all this came from,"

"Don't drink then. More for us,"

"Cheers to that,"

The glasses clinked and came up to hide her grin from her brother, it was always funny to see him not catch onto her little sleight of hand. The three of them spoke and enjoyed the drink, the smoke, and the cold breeze that whipped the place from time to time at night and took away the heat like it was a nightmare of another day.

"Itse I want to know something. Nico told me that you were a pirate but I heard not another word about it,"

"And what is it that you want to know?"

"What's like living at sea?"

Her voice was but a crack higher than it should, a hum of excitement and forlorn almost making her sing the question that had intrigued and terrified her since they made their decision. And there was something infectious in it as a smile split Itse's face, her little wrinkles bunching up at the edges, and put a grin and an amused snort in Nico.

"Such a hard thing to put in words,"

And those eyes that always had a mocking smile in them, shined a little brighter, a little differently as she pieced together her words and found the memories of days past.

"The sea has a great many things to show you, and I just can't bring up a day I wasn't glad I took my captain's hand. She showed me such sights, islands I never thought existed, some floating loftily in the sky and others latched onto the back of animals from legends. But if I have to say what I loved most was the people, to see everyone take life by a different side, with a different face and attitude. Some were commendable and admirable and others less so, much less,"

There was something in her voice as she spoke, a fire that had not been quenched, that would keep her company till the day she breathed her last. Her desire and her wish had not aged, had not withered like her face or her hands had, it hang onto the rims of her heart with a grip that couldn't be betrayed by time. It was enviable and delightful to watch her speak about fountains that sprayed wine and islands that were surrounded by candy and cake.

"What was the name of your crew? I forgot,"

Asked Nico without the least bit of tact. For a man that preached so hard on manners he could be as rude as an ass sometimes.

"The Blackjacks. Led by Full-Deck Rouge,"

Martina's ears tickled when she heard the name and it seemed that it got her brother's head jogging by how still he went when he registered it. She was sure it was but a coincidence, after all Rouge was a common name. Right?

"Rouge? As in Portgas Rouge?"

Itse's eyes were about to pop from her face as they were filled with uncontrollable happiness.

"You know her? I was sure that her name was buried like many others by Gold's shadow, the detestable bastard,"

"We only know about someone hiding in South Blue,"

"Baterilla Island,"

She smiled as she spoke.

"It's the one and the same, my captain always talked about that place. Said it was where she was born and where she found her Devil Fruit,"

"She was a user?"

"Oh yes, one of the strongest at that. Went toe to toe with Big Mom too when she was just starting to wear the golden hat and calling herself queen of something,"

"An emperor? She went against an Emperor!"

Nicolas' voice went shrill at that revelation, it had blindsided the both of them. They weren't surprised about Portgas being a pirate, how could she meet the King otherwise, but being someone that went against Charlotte Linlin?

"Yes, and what a battle it was. They tore apart two islands, two! Both crews had to help in getting the civilians away, it was something out of stories. Big Mom battered Rouge with god's fury, lightning and fire savaging everything but my Captain, her anger a holocaust, but she shrugged it all. The thunder and flames alike did nothing but caress her clothes as they exchanged brutal blows atop castles and mountains that crumbled when they met, I had never seen her take on half as many forms as she did there, nor half as quickly. It was the one time I feared for her and I would have flung myself right in the thick of it if my mates hadn't held me back with rope and chain,"

The three of them shuddered as she was finished speaking, the siblings were thrumming with excitement as they heard of a witness how the pinnacle looked and Itse shuddered in bliss. Colour seeping from her and draping over her face like a bride's veil, and it would have been a beautiful sight had it not been the thick and bright purple of lust that escaped her. It wasn't nice to see an old woman get horny, not a one bit.

"I have never seen a more beautiful sight as her walking out of the flames, coat ripped and teared, her hair down and her hat in her hand. I am not ashamed to say I threw myself at her, only pity is she let me fall,"

"You loved her then?"

"That's right, I have loved her and only her in my life. Reason why they call me Faithful. I loved every form she took on, be it a mermaid or a giant I loved every single one,"

"She could turn into what now?"

"Mermaids, Giants, Long-Legs, Long-Arms, she could turn into any and all. She always said that the gods saw so much beauty in us that they could not choose a single mould for us, and so we were made with so many forms, she loved to change herself at every island to look the world with new eyes,"

She giggled like an adolescent at a thought before speaking again.

"There was one time I told her that if she stayed a Long-Ear for too long I might lose hold of myself, she laughed loud and clear as a breaking wave at that,"

They all smiled at that, there was an innocence to Itse when she spoke of her Captain, of her love that just made the both of them embarrassed and happy for a reason. But there was something that niggled at her in that last sentence.

"Long-Ears? Never heard of them,"

"You will both love them, they are simply beautiful. Not a single ugly tribesman in there. And they live longer than even Giants, so they can teach you a lot of new and _interesting_ things,"

Questions answered they didn't press her for an explanation on that, she was not interested in hearing about what Itse had learnt with this tribe, not a one bit.

"Ah, but they are hard to find. Too much trouble when conceiving and then they have to wait for more than a year for the babe to be born, it keeps their population small and not for a lack of trying. I can testify to that,"

She gave them both a leer that made them scrunch their noses and hold their tongue on whatever they wanted to say about her, after all you should never bad mouth your host.

Laying down on the couch she stared at the rafters for a long time, it was already well past midnight and tomorrow would see her waking at the crack of dawn but for the love of it she couldn't sleep. Her mind twined around what she should do, Itse didn't know about Rouge's death but she couldn't tell her either because she wasn't supposed to know, hinting that they heard about her living in South Blue was already stretching it thin.

But she wanted to speak, she reckoned she owed her at least that much. To be the one that told her that the person she held close to her heart all these years was gone and that she had left a child, one that knew not a thing about his mother.

It was painful to hold herself back like this and she could feel the pit in her stomach eating away, but she couldn't talk. Not now at least, but she hoped that Itse could forgive her for it because she certainly couldn't.

 **Congratulations [Ranger] Class levelled up.**

 **[Ranger] level 8.**

It did nothing for her but put more guilt in her, to know that she was helping them, and she betrayed her with silence. Her gut would most likely be hollow with time.


	12. Chapter 12

_Don't think, comment_

* * *

 _45~55 minutes of baking, or until its golden on the outside._

"What other recipe did you remember?"

"Pound cake. Going to buy what I am missing tomorrow and give it a try,"

"Save me something. Or at least leave me a spoon with the mix,"

"It depends how well it goes,"

"Meaning you will shove everything else down your throat. Try to remember not to eat the foil, I want to avoid having to purge your guts,"

He put the cap back on his pen and put away his journal in the little flap of leather at his back. The small book already had about a quarter of its pages full of scribbling, from recipes to songs and names. Names of all kinds and origins, from the before there was family and friends and mentors, people they felt would be insulting to forget for but a second, and then there were others. Names of interest from this world that had taken them hostage, names of people and places and if they were important there was simply no clear indication of it other than them being worth the ink.

Pulling out a crumbling piece of cookie he offered one to Martina and then ate the other one, his throat almost twisting as he watched her give some to the cat. But he held his tongue, it was a waste of air and he was exhausted enough as it was and so he rested against the stone at his back. The one he had hauled all the way to the top of this bloody hill on the other side of the island. They both watched the horizon as they rested against their bags.

"Sis, do you see that?"

"The dot to our right? I see it, what about it,"

"Don't you think it strange that they are coming to the place without a port?"

"Maybe they will round the island at some point and go to Usato,"

"Or maybe not,"

They stayed there for a while longer than they should watching the ship keep their direction true to the back of the island, they stayed past their rest and bit well into the time of their next lesson and still they held their course true. Both of them were sure they weren't going to start turning now that they could almost see the red of their sails, their navigator should already know where they were and should be preparing to steer to the sides in search of port, except they didn't.

"As incredible as it might seem, you were right. They should see that the place has nowhere to moor already,"

"It's no miracle that I am right,"

"Sure is, its right there with the chances of meeting Borsalino,"

"Who is thinking of meeting an Admiral now?"

Nicolas was proud to say that he did not, in fact, scream when Itse's voice came from in between them. But he did curse when Martina shot a round that missed Faithful and nearly caught him square in the chest, it didn't matter that she was using her [Blunt Bullets] getting shot without preparation was still an affair he could do without. It hurt almost as bad as being hoofed by a horse, but that was only for him because they still managed to make a boar pass out.

"Ah, how hurtful, for my student to try to shoot me when I am checking their wellbeing. Such betrayal,"

"Now try saying it without smiling, you fucking ghost,"

"Language, Sis,"

"Don't give me that Nicolas. She is like the fucking Llorona and you can't say otherwise,"

There was nothing to defend Faithful from that accusation, the woman had a long record of scaring the both of them past what was considered funny. But that was beside the point.

"Language,"

"Well then, if we are done with that. What is it that kept you from coming back, I can see that neither is hurt and you didn't kill anything. So I expect a very, very good reason,"

There was a sense of foreboding in her smile that had him standing a little straighter, something about that wire thin smile put him on edge and made him think that they weren't talking to old Faithful but to someone else. Someone angry beyond words and all too willing to hurt them if displeased, and it was only then that the label of pirate fit her. And when she smacked them upside down.

"We were checking a ship that's behaving strange,"

"A ship behaving strange? Is it sinking? Is it requesting help? And if it was, what could you two have done for it? Swim all the way there and save them?"

"It's making its way to the back of the island,"

And she turned on her heels to look at the horizon and at the vessel they were talking about, now it was clear that it was no merchant. Its form sleek and sharp like an arrow, its deck too close to the water for it to take a cargo worth any trip other than to neighboring islands. Even then the rest of it screamed of assaults and violence as it raced towards their shores, cutting waves and wind like a razor. Faithful shared their thoughts it appeared, if the way she frowned at it was any tell.

"How long has it kept its course?"

"Hasn't changed it since we spotted it,"

Martina kept her answers clipped and to the point, not a bite or scat to her words, as good a testament as any of how serious the ideas in her head were. He also had ideas of what it was, but he hoped he was wrong because he liked none of them.

"It looks like we will be the ones receiving them,"

"Shouldn't we call someone from the city? Maybe not try to take a whole crew by our lonesome?"

"Nothing to be done if they come through the back. We have no ships with cannons and this little thing would be in the water before we could close it off. And by land it takes half a day for a good hunter, think of dozens of city folk coming here. At least a day and then some. We are the only ones that can take them at such short notice,"

And he said no more. He had never thought of leaving them be, not for a second, but he hoped they wouldn't be the ones to do the work.

"Do you think they are pirates?"

"Could be. They could also be poachers from somewhere else, the animals here grow larger than anywhere else and there is no end to those hoping to make a trip, take a shot, and come back with a little extra for the year,"

"But you don't think they are,"

"They would have a cheaper ship if they were, a fisher or something along those lines. Not a schooner,"

She turned to the both of them, her eyes hard as the stones on their backs and her face dry of humour.

"Check your weapons, make sure you have everything in working order and where it should be easy to reach,"

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Hope that you don't need them,"

And with that he felt his face fall, it was a battle that they were heading to and he had no dreams it would go any other way, neither did Faithful or Martina but they both took it in stride. Itse unfastened her rifle from her back and set it apart giving every piece a once over, filled her bandolier with casings and started working on the fat blade she kept around, meanwhile Martina unloaded and reloaded her revolver spinning the drum on the side of the gun and all with the starts of a smile on her face. She was just as happy this was happening as he was terrified of what was to come.

There was something that niggled the back of his throat, hot and sick, he had begun to feel it when it had become apparent the ship was coming here. It was fear, but of what he was not sure. He had spent the last sixteen days stopping claws and fangs with his bare hands, he had crushed boulders and ripped trees, and all that only made the sick worse. He was more than he should be, more than he could have dreamt of, but he was still scared. Scared of being hurt, scared for Itse and Martina, but most of all scared of what he could now do. Bones and muscles seemed so frail now, it was simply too easy for him to snap the leg or the arm of a beast. And a human was even easier.

"You keep sharpening that knife and you will be left with no blade,"

He looked down and at the cleaver in his hand, he remembered guillotining a boar with it, the edge biting into layers of muscle and thick vertebras like mud and shuddered. When they all were ready, he made sure to unfasten his belt, the leather and the steel left behind next to the stones and only then the sick lessened a bit. Even then it was not by much.

They stared down the outcrop of rocks and boulders towards the beach, the ship's hull resting on the sand as its crew came to land. As rugged a bunch as any, most of them had at least one hole punched through their face with big golden or silvery loops hanging from them, ink splashed on legs, arms, and chests like a bucket of it had been dropped on them. Their skin so burnt that it was practically leather by now. And while he couldn't see the desires and emotions of a person as his sister could he could still feel the strongest of them, the most common in each one, and he could only see the red of aggression and black of violence clinging onto them. Like tattered clothes that stuck to them and drifted in the wind like flags that marked them for what they were as easily as a jolly roger.

"Nicolas, you will go down the way to our left and wait in the forest for them to get close, when they are you jump them, you hit them and you go back behind the trees. Martina you will take the left, keep to the gloom and run every time you shoot. Don't stay put for a second. I will be taking down the ones still on the ship from here and then work on the gunners,"

The three of them were side by side and he could feel Faithful grab hold of his arm and give it a squeeze.

"Please, be careful children. I will help you all I can but stay careful,"

He was as scared as scared come but her being there, being willing to put them first made his breathe come easy for a second. Almost without thinking he hugged the woman that had treated them like family and kissed the side of her head, it was all he could do.

"We will Itse. I still need to try a few more recipes,"

"And I have a case of wine I haven't opened yet,"

"Stupid children. You have more to do than eat and drink,"

Catching his sister arm, he gave it a squeeze as well and nodded at her, none of them would get hurt, and he prayed for that to all the gods and saints.

Plastering himself to the walls of the cliff he made his way down, black fingers digging easily into the ancient stone made it a simple affair. He was down the wall in a couple of seconds and without a hitch. He walked on all four when he reached the forest, his bulk simply too big to be hidden by the flaking touch of green that was near the beach, like a stalking animal preparing to run like all hells to reach its prey and savage it. The more time he spent doing it the easier it came, his chest and hips almost parallel to the ground, his arms already used to how they should be kept and his legs stretched to avoid raising his ass.

He went past a tree, silent as a shadow, and heard an evil hiss right next to his ear that made him freeze. Then came a smell that almost made him gag, he looked sideways and came face to face with a man wearing his birthday suit. All his clothes and belongings thrown a few meters away and he was squatting by the side of the single, massive tree that had hid him. Before Nicolas could think anything other than that the man needed a doctor, Birthday swung the small shovel he had in his other hand with a fury. He caught it without effort and threw it away before winding his fist back and chucking a hay maker that folded Birthday's hasty defence against his chest and hurled him through the trees, the shrub, and into the middle of the beach.

 _There goes the element of surprise,_ he thought _._

They all saw the old boy roll like a wheel from the treeline, his head smacking the ground over and over. And Treebick reckoned he should thank whoever he believed in that it was sand he was hitting and not stones. Treebick swallowed as he reached Lasmark and saw all the blood coming from his rock of a head, it was coming out fast and hard like a piss after a fuck, he reckoned someone should do something. Call a doctor, call the alarm. Something. But they were all looking at the man that was flung like a used cloth a good thirty paces and then some.

He swallowed again thinking what could have done it and he drew his sword just as the first screams started. It was a cheap thing, its handle prone to rattle. He had paid more for his belt than for the sword, giving it more thought to keeping his pants up than to keeping a good blade. That seemed a fool of a decision now that he had to use it.

"Guns, bring the- "

The words turned thick in his throat. He saw something in the treeline, it had been a there for second, but he had seen it. A head big as his chest getting a peek at them from behind a tree. A scalp clean as steel and a mast of a forehead sitting over two eyes sharp as nails. It had looked straight at him and even at that distance he felt his blood go cold in him, it was like staring down a cliff and then being pushed off. He felt it like that second you reckoned you were falling and there was nothing to do but take it and leave the rest to fate.

He registered the loud voice of a gun and everything turned over, he was resting against the sand now. The whole world was swimming around and sideways and up and down, he don't remember having drunk half so much or anything half as bad. Then came the red and his head reached the thought he had been shot. So he stayed where he was, not much for a man to do once shot. Except hope for help.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong, the place was supposed to be dead on this side. No one was supposed to be living in this god forsaken part.

 _But they are here. And you see them, don't you?_ That ugly piece of his head chuckled as he watched a man tall as their ship zip through the trees and dodge the whipping blades and rains of bullets coming at him. He, no, it then grabbed two of his boys. Its body almost dropping to the ground before taking hold of their ankles and throwing them into the forest and following them close behind. They screamed, loud and terrible, as they found themselves away from everyone and then came the slap of flesh on flesh. One then two and then three wet, loud sounds were all it took for the forest to go quiet again.

 _How nice of it, he doesn't make them suffer. That's good, isn't it Lock? This way you get what you deserve and without the pain, yes?_

 _I don't deserve to die, I don't want it._ He answered the howling voice in his head as another one was shot to the ground, the only thing you could see was the smoke and the glint of a barrel on top of that crag. But that was enough to tell where their death was coming from. And it was enough to know where not to go, so he run. There was no saving the lot of them, so he would save his self at the very least. He would come back when the Captain sorted things out, yes he would.

When he put a foot in the forest to their right, he felt his skin prickle all over. Like pins and needles across his face. The shadows were big and ugly here, even when the sun was hitting the place from its spot right over their heads the gloom was still stronger. It was wrong, unnatural. He wanted out of this place, out of this island as he heard something snap behind him. When he turned, he found himself staring up at a woman. A fair face, with long barley hair that stood up at its root, she was taller than him by a head and thick at the shoulders and chest. She was beautiful in a way that screamed of strength and iron. But what took him was not the gun shining despite the darkness, it was how she was showing him all her pearly teeth like an animal. All pleased with herself.

Opening his mouth to scream in fright he felt her hand wrap around his throat and push him against a tree, the back of his head slapping the bark when his neck whipped backwards. She came closer, close enough to see her brown eyes. The colour of the reefs that clawed the hulls of ships.

"I need silence right now, boy,"

Her breath hot in his ear was the last thing he felt as the grip of her gun cracked against his cheek. He slid down the tree like a slug when she stopped supporting his weight and she turned around without another look, a cat big as a dog close to her heels. His eyes looking ahead came to rest on several others of his crew. All with a cut across their faces and of the same mind as him, thinking there was a way out.

 _You got lucky again, Lock._

"What in Jone's locker is happening?"

Roared Captain Alexander Alex Kent Paul Harris, also known as The Ball, as he avoided a bullet that zipped past the side of his head. Lifting one of the barrels near him he used it as a shield to get to the rest of his crew and get an update. He wanted to know how was it that they were under attack in a bloody rest spot.

"Lock! Come here and explain,"

"Captain, we don't know where Mister Lock is. Last we know he ran into the forest,"

 _Useless, I am surrounded by cowards._ He thought as he threw himself to the ground as another hail peppered the blockade they had made on the prow of the ship.

"Shoot at them then. And get us some time to run,"

"We can't, they are all coming from the top of that cliff. Our bullets can't get past the bottom half,"

Alexander Alex was about to curse as far and as wide as knew when the barrage faltered and then stopped completely, grabbing one of his men by the scruff he lifted his head out of cover and waited for it to get blown to bloody bits. When nothing of the sort happened he felt his lips twitch and sighed in relief.

"They are out of bullets men, get off and push the ship off this damn island,"

Those that were dim in the head cheered and rushed to follow his command while those with a little fire in there stayed put before he started throwing them into the beach.

 _Disobedience is punishable with death, but I can understand not wanting to go down._ _H_ e thought darkly to himself as he stared at those that were trying to shield themselves with someone else. But just as the hull had been dragged a pitiful distance into the waters, it appeared. An animal as big as him that swiped men, barrels, and crates with one of its logs like arms. His crew screamed and shouted as they went air born and those that he missed were downed by a woman. She came out from in between the trees as well, her hand gripping a beast of a gun that kicked anyone she hit with the strength of a mallet. The rounds lifting anyone they touched off the ground and flinging them back like dolls tossed in a childish tantrum.

There was no way out of this for the Great Alexander Alex Kent Paul Harris, and he knew it, but to end his saga in an island such as Farra in the North Blue was a disappointment as big as any. Taking some courage in the face of his end he hefted his bulk and shrugged the hands that tried to stop him, a man should know when he is beat and fight even harder for time's sake. With two steps he bounded off the prow of his ship and landed in a cloud of sand and grit, he might have seemed a great Admiral with the right angle. A pity no one would see it, no one would immortalize his image as it was due.

"Look no further Pirate Hunters, here is the man you are searching for. Here stands Alexander Alex Kent Paul Harris, Captain of the-"

He almost bit his tongue as his head was forced back by a bullet in his forehead, looking up he saw the clear sky. The bright blue dotted by the white of the journeying seagulls. And as he fell backwards, defeated, he thought it looked very much like the day he had set sail for the first time. When he was but a boy.

"Sis, he was talking!"

"He was boring me with his prattle,"

"Have some respect he was giving his last words,"

Why couldn't they shut up and leave him to his thoughts.


	13. Chapter 13

Hi sweeties, sorry about missing Sunday update but I just couldn't keep going without adding this part. Then I had a job interview and a final project. So yes, hard times.

He stopped smoking midway to look at his hands, they were battered and scarred now. Knuckles peeled and raw, palms cut from stopping blades and wrists and forearms bruised from taking bullets. And only now did they stop shaking. Excitement, nerves, and dread had played sick games in his head and left him with worse wounds than any pirate could have left. His hands had had the trembles, his breathe had been coming short, and his throat had been clogged the entire trip back.

 _No dead._ The words repeated in his head like a catechism, they were the respite he needed. The escape from all the what ifs his head had come up with, it was the only thing that mattered. He had his sister to thank for that, even if she had taken a certain _sadistic_ glee from their horror. He had to thank her for letting him live without a sinking conscience.

Finishing the half he had left in one breathe, he pulled out the steel case he kept his cigarettes in and sighed as all that was left were two miserable sticks side by side. The door coughed rust and splinters as Faithful kicked her way out, as if the hinges coming off was not one of her problems. Looking at her for a second, he begrudgingly obeyed the little voice in his head that told him to offer her a smoke. She took it, and if she saw the sad in his face she gave no hints of it.

"Thank you, my boy,"

They sat there in a silence that had him licking his lips. For Nicolas there was no such thing as a comfortable silence, it was but an awkward wait to see who spoke first.

"We did well today, didn't we?"

"Yes, you did,"

But there was something in the way she spoke without looking at him, without putting much of anything in her words that made him nervous. Why couldn't he have at least filled up one of his pouches beforehand.

"Tell me something Nicolas, what do you train for?"

"To protect Martina,"

"So you don't care what happens to yourself?"

"I don't go looking for fights like she does,"

"No, you don't. But you will still find yourself in the thick of it if you follow her,"

He didn't know where the conversation was going, but he knew there was something he wouldn't coming his way.

"So tell me this then. Are you actually ready to fight?"

"I fought today, didn't I?"

"That was no fight, that was a bullying. I want to know if you can give it your all if you ever meet someone that can match you blow for blow,"

"Well, I will know when I meet them,"

"What if it had been today? What if that Captain had been the one, how in hell would you have fought without your weapons?"

His gut grumbled as if it had been starved for years, he needed something nibble on or something to smoke.

"I would have-"

"died. Or been seriously hurt, I see no other ending to a fight between a cripple and a warrior,"

"I am no cripple now,"

"What is a swordsman without his swords if not half of what he is. Make no mistake boy, there is no one kind enough in the seas to wait for you to be ready. Me least of all,"

And with those words she shoved a rucksack at his chest, pressed the contents against him and made him feel some pain. Her face a shadow of sadness and regret before she caught herself and was all iron once more. He peeled the clothe and took both scabbards in one hand, lifted the handles to eye level and watched the steel caress the wind. Moving his head to the side he dodged the reinforced tip of Faithful's cane as she moved it from side to side trying to smack him, obviously holding back.

"From now on we will be fighting with live steel. No more blunted blades,"

"But what-"

She pushed against the throat and made him choke on his words, forcing him to use the weapons to block. He felt a fire burn each time she interrupted him, each prod and hit stoking the flames and making it grow. The hate smouldered his insides, pushing him to close his mouth lest he cursed, making his arms ripple as he held himself from striking. But it was all in vain. It was but a touch, a caress to his eye but it sent him reeling back in pain and confusion as he couldn't see a thing from his left side.

And he got up, unsheathed both blades and let go of a fury that had burned its way to his skin. _Why couldn't she show some respect, why couldn't he speak and be listened, why!_ He dropped both his blades on her to which she pushed the flat without moving. A cut that went for her hips was jumped over and the one that went for feet was stepped on.

Martina chugged down a bottle of champagne as she made her way outside to sober up some with the cold and go back to drinking quick as possible. But when she reached the door she heard clashes, the sound of flesh, and grunts and complaints. Pushing the piece of wood while covering her eyes and hoping not to find Nicolas and Itse in some exhibitionist play, she came to face the two of them as they ripped the grass and upturned a tree.

Feeling a smile creeping to her face she took another bottle and charged into the melee. Her left coming down to break the empty one on her brother's head while trying to smack Itse with the one still full.

"Free for all!"

She screamed as she avoided a sweep and kicked the cane away from her legs. Using the chance bought by Nicolas' screwed up riposte she swung her bottle, now reinforced with some good armament, at Itse's sword arm. The woman grunted as she took the blow without moving a step and forced her to drop to the ground or have her head played like a football.

Punching her brother's shoulder she almost shrieked in glee as she realized what they had done. Vengeance! Sweet vengeance had been delivered. They had managed to land a hit on the odious woman, they had put some pain in her. She was ecstatic, so much so that she didn't see the terrible expression in Faithful's eyes. With a smile on her face that reached her ears, a cat in her arms, and a song in her mouth she set to goad her way to an early grave.

"We are the champions, my friends. And we'll keep on fighting till the end,"

Even the cat looked smugly at the older woman as she allowed herself to crack a small smile. Slapping his shoulder, she looked at him in the eyes.

"It wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"I don't want to kill people Itse,"

"Then don't. But let me tell you, battles may have no winners, but they certainly have losers. You don't want to find yourself asking what would have happened if I had kept my weapons at hand,"

That night he laid awake in his bed, chewing his teacher's words. He didn't like it, but he knew there was truth in them, he had never allowed a single piece of his life be marred by regret. And he didn't fancy starting now, not when regrets were all but shackles in this world and damn heavy as well. So he made peace with himself, the swords would stay by his side together with the worry.

 **Congratulations [Warrior] Class levelled up.**

 **[Warrior] level 11.**

 **Congratulations new Skill acquired.**

 **[Menace] learnt.**


	14. Chapter 14

Why is it that every time I post I lose a favourite... so bloody sad

* * *

"Furl the sails!"

"It's too late. We are already too close to port, we are going to hit the quay,"

"No worries. There are plans for that,"

Itse raised a single brow at that and settled to keep drinking her coffee, Puma laid lazily across her lap and another chair that Martina had put so that he would rest comfortably. Only the best for her partner. Eyeing the distance between their ship and the moor she raised a hand at her brother, who squatted next to the bowsprit and touched the wood of the figurehead for luck. Such a dramatic man.

"Ready for a scrum?"

"Always!"

"Then jump!"

She watched him throw himself to the air like a fat chicken trying to take flight, watched the sailors run for their lives as her brother flew at them with all the bulk of a landslide. And she cringed as the wood groaned, complained, and twisted as Nicolas landed. Steering their ship to almost scrape against the wooden pillar to their left in a feat of judgement and positioning, and just as they were about to keep going and crash down the fisher boats in their wake, they came to a grinding halt. With all the smoothness of a rusted cog forcing itself to turn, the Beatriz finally stopped its rampaging charge towards her brethren, and Martina rushed to throw the loops of rope in the bollards with unerring accuracy. As always.

Seeing that his job was done Nicolas stopped shouldering the prow and started massaging the place where he had rested the steel reinforcement on. It was typical of him, always complaining that something hurt him when he barely felt the damn thing press against him. So much drama for such a big man.

Everyone near them was either spitting at the sea for the scare or cursing them without much discretion, all meant to be heard and challenge. But they would do nothing, as always, their arrivals had become something of a daily occurrence and some people had started betting on whether they would dock like normal people or not. Thus far, they held a record of four normal dockings and sixteen non-standard ones that went from looping a rope through a bollard while still outside the port and used it to tow themselves, to using two ships as drifting anchors when a bad wind caught their tail and blew them right against the wood. The last one had seen a bill of fifty thousand berries fall on their lap for possible risks and whatnot. Martina wondered if it was a sign that it fell into the sea right the next moment.

"Well done, children. You docked while hurting no one this time, that's what I call an improvement. A right pity it's so close to the day you leave, with a few more days, or months, you two might be able to consider yourselves sailors,"

"We talked about this Itse, the date is set. We won't budge it,"

"I know but one has to say this kind of things, I worry you might be the ones getting hurt next,"

"Maybe her,"

"Right. Cause all that blabber is too good a cushion, maybe I will use you as a meat shield next time,"

"I will move out the way every single time,"

"Whatever happened to all that 'I train to protect my cute little sister' shtick?"

Nicolas whirled like a spinning top in place to confront Itse and spat his words with as much indignation as humanely possible.

"You told her? I asked you not to,"

"It escaped me,"

She saw his face scrunch up. His lips turn down a fraction and his doorstep of a forehead marred by angry wrinkles, it was a sight to behold to see someone so big sulk. Shouldering her way past a group of drunks and letting her brother's frowny face smothered their anger she turned to face him, cupping both her cheeks in her hands in mock adoration.

"She went over it very roughly, so you need to tell me exactly how it went,"

"Stop it,"

"Did you put a hand in your chest and swore it like a knight would an oath?"

Her face tuning into a joke of seriousness.

"Shut up,"

"Or did you go and grab her shoulders and bellowed that I was all that you had left to live for?"

"You see what you do when you tell her stuff like that, Faithful?"

"She isn't bothering me,"

Getting on the tip of her toes she patted his lump of a head with the kindness only siblings can have and gave him a cheeky smile, the big oaf was always so shy she had to be a little forceful to crack that shell of his in order to let him know she felt truly touched by the sentiment. But fuck it all if she would ever say that shit out loud. So, she went and did the only other thing she knew would make him happy, she bought him a big pile of food, three stakes choked with greasy meat and a sandwich long as her arm. All which he devoured and slowly melted his frown. Such simplemindedness made her worry sometimes, he could be offered a poisoned apple and he would most likely ask for sugar.

Letting Puma drop from his perch on her shoulders she prodded him mentally and had him trip the kid that was running at them trying to pounce on them, plucking him by the scruff he was lifted till he was at eye level. The child had a smile bright as a broken window hit by the sun thanks to his missing teeth, eyes green as the sea, and a scar on his nose. One of Itse's many, _many_ grandchildren.

"You are back!"

He declared the obvious with such joy that it made her crack a smile.

"Indeed and we brought your grandma early so she can play Pirates and Marines with you lot even longer,"

"Yes!"

"Marcello you know we have a party tonight and we won't have much time to play,"

The child should thank his god for making him so cute because his parents butchered him with that name. When the party was mentioned he quieted a second put both his arms forward for a hug that she gladly allowed, out of all the little monsters this one was her favourite despite what she told all the others.

"Nonna told me its because you are leaving, yes?"

"We are. Tomorrow,"

She kicked her brother with her heel so as not to yank the boy around. Stupid oaf and his honest to god attitude.

"But I don't want you to leave. We can't play if you leave,"

"I know boy but we have things to look for at sea,"

"Like what?"

"Like our family,"

"But we are family, yes? Nonna said so, she said we were,"

A piss on anyone that told her they saw her tear up. But the boy struck a cord that was thin as a hair in her heart and she turned to look at Itse that was looking at the sky like it was the most interesting thing in the whole world.

"You did? And I thought you just liked bothering us,"

"What is family if not people you bother and help and love?"

"Guess we should call you nonna too?"

"Not in twenty years children, you can call me aunt,"

She looked at the them in turn and made to lift her hand and touch them but ended it quickly like they would leave if she did.

"If you want, that is,"

Nicolas took the both of them in his arms and lifted them on the air, easy as one would rope, and laughed loud like a drum. The sound almost making the windows panes of the shops tremble by the force.

"Faithful I may not have said it, but I see you as much as family as my own grandmother,"

"Share the feeling but as a great grandmother,"

"Told you both to call me aunt. You two have no respect for me,"

"What is family if not people you bother?"

"And help,"

"And love,"

Finished Marcello with great effort, his cheeks pushed together in the press of bodies and seeing the little fella fight to breathe Nico released them of his bone crusher and patted the boy. It was nice to say it, to hear it was even better and she felt a little bubbly in the chest from all the happiness and she turned around to let that little tear of hers fall unnoticed. She loved them and no doubt about that, so much so that she would share her Jack Fisher. Maybe better start with something cheaper, she needed time to get used to this whole sharing thing.

.

(o.O)

.

They lay down on the grass under a star lighted sky, they with a drink in hand and him with a cigar and making every effort to keep the smoke from going into the open windows. Martina burped and tasted the whisky a second time or maybe it was the wine, nope that was the champagne, she thought she had learnt not to mix alcohol. Guess there were times not to listen to a lesson like the day before you leave everyone you ever met, when you left family to look for family. As strange a notion as it was there was no changing that it was what they wanted.

"I smelled that. Blow that wind somewhere else please,"

She burped again and blew it at her brother's face.

"Disgusting,"

He answered and filled the whole place with smoke, acrid and bitter as the tar in it. How was it that he could enjoy that kind of things was beyond her, they smelt worse than a latrine and were expensive as fuck with how often he bought his packs.

"You two know I am in the middle right?"

"Sorry Faithful,"

"Not sorry,"

Itse poked the mouth of her stomach, right below her ribs, and she felt her guts rumble and turn, and she felt sick all of a sudden. Looking at the hateful woman she tried to look at her with reproach and only felt sicker as her voice came with all the joy of someone in their wedding day.

"Not sorry,"

They lapsed into silence, Nicolas because he had nothing to say when he could smoke or eat, Itse because she enjoyed the quiet, and Martina because she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her stomach if she opened her mouth. And so time went by, the day ate away at the night and they could hear the birds sing their ugly, tuneless song that told you it was close to four in the morning. As if on cue Itse spoke.

"Are you sure you two want to leave? You would be a great merchant in any firm and you would be an excellent chef in any restaurant,"

They both looked rustled by the question, both moving on their seats on the ground and looking at her with all their attention.

"Don't you two look at me like that, I am worried that you two don't know what you are getting in,"

"We can't stay with you forever either, so we have things to do at sea,"

"Like what?"

"We want to see what this world has to offer, we want to see the deserts of Arabasta,"

"The canals of Water Seven and the corridas of Dressrosa,"

They smiled conspiratorially at each other as they mentioned each place, a childish giggle as if their parents were non the wiser to their plans. They would visit all those places, but not for sightseeing or anything as harmless and Itse picked up on it quickly as she looked at the sky again and sighed loudly before taking a paper from her pocket and almost giving it to Nico before thinking better and giving it to her.

"That's the number of my Den-Den Mushi. I want to know what you two are doing and where, they may be few the friends that remain but I am sure they would lend you a helping hand if you throw my name in,"

"We will keep you up to date,"

"I will make sure she calls every time we dock,"

"You better, the second I find something on the newspaper before you tell me I am sailing for the both of you,"

Looking at each other they struggled with saying the next few words, they both knew what the other would say. They had a feeling the other was about to spout the same words and were hoping the other would speak first, and in the end they both said it at the same damn time.

"Thank you for everything, grandma/nonna,"


	15. Chapter 15

Few times had Farra Island seen such a big crowd sit on its docks, no, that was wrong, there were crowds like this every morning and night but those were sailors and taskmasters and merchants. But now? Now there were beggars, bakers, butchers, and people that worked in every piece of the industry except the port. And they were all here for two youngsters that were leaving their home of a month to sail the seas, many ignored what was that they were pursuing but still they liked them. Liked the confident, young woman that always had a dirty joke in her mouth, a coin for a drink from a beggar, and a smile like a cat for children and elders. She who had visited every bar and skimmed the bill by giving songs and tales to the drunk customers, enrapturing the scarred and tough with innocent little things they had turned their backs to years ago. She was a breath of air where she passed, lightening the mood and spreading laughs like a sickness.

Then there was her brother, a man that was as soft as he was big. Always too willing to lend a hand to those struggling or in hard spots, the children loved him as the bear that threw them into the air and filled them with treats until they were sick of the stuff. More than one mother had tried to reprimand him, only to falter when he gave them a smile that was sweet as the treats he produced from his pockets. Butcheries and Liquor Stores and Bakeries knew him as the man that cleared their business for the day and thanked him for gifting them with such welcomed holidays.

In the small time they had been there they had drawn people to them, there was something about their exaggerated gestures that just couldn't be faulted. And now the young woman was standing with her family as they looked at her brother. Martina stood next to Itse giving Nicolas a nod of approval as he sweet talked a young woman who was crying at his departure.

"Never thought he had a lover. I was sure his only love was the spoon he used for the mix,"

"I saw him a couple times. The boy always left that bakery with a shine to his smile,"

"Well, I must congratulate him then. And meet my sister in law I guess,"

"Don't go bother him now, girl. Let him enjoy it,"

"You know I wouldn't dare bother them,"

The older woman looked at her from the corner of her eye and snorted in good humour. Looking down Martina found Itse's grandchildren crowding around her, making a barrier of soft meat and bird bones that held the beggars she knew she had given more than a coin to and the owners of some bars that were gesturing for her.

"Lass! The people from the Wave pooled together some money and bought you a casket of our wine. God forbids you go thirsty in your first voyage,"

"Make it two with the Psyren',"

"Shush you. I am a virgin to alcohol,"

There was a mixture of laughter and mocking gestures as the words crossed the crowd, and then there were catcalls and whistling as her brother planted a kiss in the dainty girl, making her blush deep and hard. Much to everyone's amusement.

"You done, lover boy? We can't wait for you two to come from the hotel,"

He gave her a look that could have cut milk but the crowd loved it as they slapped his back and told him not to take it personal. She was sure that if he didn't love every plate he produced as much as he did, he would spit her next meal. Or every other he had cooked for her.

"Aunty, why would they go to a hotel? Its early for a nap,"

Oh, she had forgotten the children. Itse stepped away from her as her son and daughter in law gave her a whittling look, at least she had the decency of looking ashamed for them. She wasn't about to start giving a sexual education in a port, no matter how much some of the sailors around might need it. Why did her [Critical eye] thought she might need to know who had the cock rot or not was beyond her and she prayed every night the system would turn it into a toggleable ability instead of a passive.

"Where is that whore! Where is she. I will cut her teats off!"

A shout cut through the good mood and reached them, every eye turned to look at the newcomers and were surprised to see a man barely restraining an infuriated woman with a carving knife. She looked at the face of the man and a drop of recognition fell into her mind.

"Nico, get to unfurling the sails. We are leaving,"

"Are you the one she is speaking about?"

"Might be. No, most definitely. Come on she got a knife on her!"

"God damn it. We both have knives!"

He hurried up the ship and set to working on the ropes that held everything neatly in place while she kicked the knots back into the deck, there was enough time to put them were they were meant to be at sea. She kissed Itse and everyone else in the cheek as she hurriedly pushed the side of the ship away from the port, escaping the lover of her lover. God damn her if she didn't have a bad eye for men. Itse laughed loud and clear as she watched the mess she got herself in and waved them off with the rest of her family.

"We will call at every port!"

"For your own good you better do it!"

They both screamed over the noise and the ruckus, it wasn't how she wanted to say goodbye but it was still better than talking and breaking in front of everyone. No, this was better, having everyone they had met shout their goodbyes was good enough. And now that she thought about it, it was hilarious to have to make their escape for such a thing. From one of the many ships that dotted the sides of the port Martina saw someone waving at her, asking for her attention until she turned.

"Ana! Ana Martina please take me with you. I can't live without you,"

Ah, there was another. It felt so strange to have these men calling for her, but in that she felt sinful for feeling good at the attention they asked of her. Surely they would never find a woman quite like her, and that brought a smile to her face as she steered their ship, a smile that was soon followed by her dad's favourite song. A song about how difficult it was to be good.

 _You knew me shameless, naughty, and adventurous_

 _A romantic scoundrel with a bad name to give,_

Her brother from the side tied the sail's rope to a bollard and joined the singing while working on getting that knot right with clever hands.

 _And despite my past of suspicious stories_

 _You fell for me, and look how we ended up_

Puma looked up from his spot over her shoulders, his draped down her chest and using it as pillow. He wondered what the noise was about and why they had dared disturbed him, those were the thoughts he had sent her through their bond.

 _And I gave you my heart for your innocent eyes_

 _And your way of life of a different kind_

They sang hard and loud as they left the island, their voices challenging the waves to sing higher and making them both feel home sick and at the same time impatient to start again. But that was what life was about, to make the most of what little they gave you and keep walking with your head held high.

Least that was what their family would want them to do, and she would happily oblige.

(O.o)

It was already the third day of their trip and Martina had to admit that they had gotten used to life at sea pretty quickly for being a pair of land lubbers. She thought contentedly as she steered them away from an outcropping of jagged stones that was barely hidden by the froth of the sea. They had studied this region well enough to know that there were several reefs and rocks that might cut them, it was one of the several spots Itse had marked in red across their map of North Blue. Or at least the piece of it they had, there was simply no way to chart the whole damn place even after all the years these people had spent trying.

Martina dragged her head up when she heard the mess of pot and pans falling or banging against each other and felt the flare of feelings Nicolas was going through in her mind. Peering at the door that led to the cabins, kitchen, and map room she saw Puma running like all hells from a carving knife that sunk itself in the deck when he threw himself to the side. He saw her looking at her and held his head high, still biting a piece of fish and preening over his prize as a commander over a hard-earned victory. She snorted at the ridiculous creature and almost laughed when she saw Nicolas coming out red in the face and with murder all about him.

"Where is that vermin! Its going into a pot right now,"

She rolled her eyes at his exaggerated outburst and winked at Puma who was already tearing the meat apart he held tightly in his paws, he almost looked like a squirrel. One with too sharp a tooth and a short tail.

"Don't make such a drama and don't come bother Puma, he is calm now that he is eating,"

And he almost jumped from the deck to the ceiling of the cabins where she was steering but he decided against it as he seemed to remember he left something in the oven or some such.

All was well and in order with her at the helm.

Just as the words formed in her head they were shoved aside by the blaring alarm of her Observation catching something, the blots and dregs of massive hunger showed themselves like ashes blown from a pyre. They drowned the side of the ship with abandoned growth, the smoke coming out of the sea in tongues and tails that tasted the wood of the rails and deck and quivered in elation, in satisfaction at finding prey. Martina cursed loud and clear, called for Nicolas and had him bursting out of the cabin once more, he broke out confused but with all the steel and fight he could muster.

"We have a Sea King to our larboard!"

That got him out of his confusion and got him to take the wheel, freeing her and letting her ready the small cannons on the port. There three of them, long as an arm and thick as a leg, Cafra had said it was meant to give them more space to rifle it and she had taken the offer with a smile after realizing that her [Steady Aim] didn't correct the trajectory of a bullet all that much if the gun had the habit of spitting it in a wild cone. So here she was now, pumping at the mouth of the cannon with a stick to get her home-made round as far in as she could. Her hands were sweating, and she licked her lips a couple times because of her dry mouth, first times were always nerve wracking.

"Light!"

Nico handed her his lighter and she removed the brass of the wick before feeding it to the flames for a second and blowing the fire. She could feel the bastard growing closer, swimming lazily around them, deciding where to begin biting. It would not do for the big fucker to come up at their starboard when she had readied everything for it on the other side. That was bad manners, her brother would say. So she went back into the kitchen and pulled the bag of wastes to the deck.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you know how to fish? We need bait,"

"I was going to use that! That thing better be edible,"

She tuned him out as she threw a fish tail and a head and guts of all size over the board. One at a time, waiting for the first to sink some before the next. And she could almost see the pieces disappear in a blink as a shadow crossed the waters below, its attention was now away from the ship and was more concerned with this opening they were gifting it with. When the bag was empty it remained there, that tail of smoke swirling right where she wanted it. And not a second a later it broke the water.

Maws thin as her hips reached out the waves, the rest of its head barely even changed as a beast that looked like the child between a bird and a moray showed itself. Its body had scales red as a good wine and flippers that sat uselessly along its body like an afterthought in its design but it was the eyes that caught her. All six of them were perfect circles of black, as if hollow crevices that showed the abyss it had from and she smiled, wild and wide. This thing, big as legends, might have been a right predator in the deep sea, agile and with sharp teeth, but this wasn't the deep. Here, _she_ was at the top.

She put the mouth of the gun right where the head joined the body as the fish somehow managed to roar, loud and reverberating as the sound of a bell in a cave. Bringing the wick to the breech she let a breath she didn't know she was holding and activated her [Piercing Shot] with another keyword.

"Brujería: "

The gun let out a voice of smoke and fury as it spat the metal ball in a show of rage. It cracked the scales that had held by their lonesome storms of gunfire at bay, the muscles that had allowed it to take the battering and punishment of its competitors failed him as it punched through, and it was only when it tensed at the pain and strength of the blow that its mad race was finally stopped.

"La Hoguera,"

As her words dropped like the blade of a guillotine flames flickered from the round and burned in a conflagration of magical blue fires. Tongues of bright hunger raced across its insides like a scorching army, its screams turned into miserable gurgles as its throat was punched through by the upsurge and its lungs were boiled over in the sudden heat. The stamina and powerful strength of its life now played against it as it extended the suffering he could not fight, and thus came the pitiful end of one of the Sea's Monarchs.

The siblings looked at smoking carcass with very different expressions, Martina looked surprised that her explosive rounds would have such big firepower, pun intended, and looked positively pleased with the results. While Nicolas could only pray that it had a better life the next time, having felt sorry that it had to suffer so.

"That was animal cruelty,"

"We wanted it dead. It did the job, so don't complain,"

"Doesn't change it was cruel,"

"Shut up. Give me the wheel and start dicing it before we have to dispense more cruelty around,"

And Nicolas followed her instructions, jumping onto its floating body and praying once more to the Saints and Gods he knew so that it may rest in peace as he pulled his carving knives from their sheathes. After all, it would be adding salt to injury to let its meat waste away.

* * *

I just couldn't wait another day to post day cause it is one of my favourites. Here I get to finally start using technique names and show what happened in the background


	16. Chapter 15,5

For a little more than a week, the only real trouble that had fallen upon the two of them had been a single spring rainstorm. But the worst that had dropped on Nicolas had been how to cook a moray, oh the woe he had felt, he had to cut off that filmy skin of it and that had been a task on itself. Scales shouldn't be that bloody slippery. And in the end, he had chosen to deep fry everything, there was simply no way to go wrong with that, with seasoned flour and oil and butter the whole thing had gone down everyone's gullet easy as it had swum from the deep.

Even the cat had eaten. And that thought made him grip the wheel harder, rubbing the polished wood in barely held anger. He had put apart scraps for it, cooked them just as fine as he had cooked for his sister and him and she _still_ fed it off her plate. It was an insult, an insult to his effort to give it to the animal but if there was something she could do without even trying was tick him off. Annoy the good out of him and have him strangling whatever he could grip, just like she was doing right now.

She was singing, just that. But she kept messing the notes and going high when it should have been low and going off key as she peeked from the edge of her hammock and smiled through the net at him.

 _Ringaroo, musharoo_

 _The sails were made of whore house bed sheets_

 _Masts stood tall like sailors' loin meat_

She sang with a fire every piece of it and her hammock swung wildly from in between the sail's wood and the crow's nest. As dangerous a place to be hanging by as any, but she still chose that spot and hugged her cat as she drunk and drunk. He couldn't tell her to stop either, today was her free day, they had made the rule, a week of dry law to a day of rest from it. She said she needed it, needed it just like he needed his smokes, that were dwindling to nothing by the day, and he didn't have anything to counter.

"Here comes the choir. Nicolas, sing with me!"

"No,"

"Come on! You know the verse,"

"Not going to sing that,"

"Boo!"

Her voice was high in protest, just like it was the last time she had asked and the last before that. Boredom was an enemy she just couldn't deal with, and the worst of it she dragged him into that fight every single time.

 _Abraham's son had small cocks they say_

He eyed her from the roof of the aft castle and then eyed the sails she was hanging off, as dangerous a spot as any.

 _Ringaroo, musharoo_

Dangerous because if, for one reason or another, the clothe were to take a wind head on it would start convulsing worse than an addict on Red Bull. His hands slowly turned the ship to larboard, so very slowly she didn't realize and just kept shouting the verses.

 _Fornicated anyway_

The left of the sail began to flap uncertainly as their ship started to take the wind wrong.

 _Ringaroo, musha-_ fuck!

Wind caressed it with the tact of a child passing by a fence with a stick in hand, each flapping spasm of the wood shook her hammock like someone trying to wake up a drunk and she quaked with each one.

"Nicolas! Fuck you! Turn the ship!"

"Aye, Captain!"

The wind couldn't drown the mirth in his voice as she held for dear life to the edges of the net, Loco nailed to her chest by his claws and he was sure it was hissing a storm up there from the scare. _Ah, vengeance,_ he though contentedly as he pushed a butter cookie into his mouth, _almost as sweet as my cooking._ Martina stared at him with a fury, teeth bared in a wavering snarl as the fright still held her and he waved at her and thought about how he had changed, never in his life would he have joked like that. Not when she could have fallen, could have hurt herself, but now he knew for a fact she could jump from the crow nest and walk away with nigh a bother.

A piece of him was still bothered by the prank, _she could have hurt herself,_ it told him with the ice of recrimination, _what would you have done then?_ The query made the sweet banish and seem stale and sick. Damn him and his conscience. The happiness just didn't last in him and he took a cigar from his polished case and set to light it, the smoke more in tune with the taste of regret and a bad conscience.

Now the ship sat in silence save for the mewling of the wind and the snatches of music of the waves being cut. He took a long drag and let it go through his nose, drowning his mouth and neck in a scarf of sad grey smoke. But just as the mire of his thoughts kept dragging him ever downwards Martina shouted with a burning excitement.

"A seagull! We are near land!"

He raised his head and eyed the bird uncertainly, their course was set and they shouldn't be meeting any ground for another couple of days, had the animal been blown away or had they cut the time on their trip for some strange reason. As it drew closer he could see a bright red strip hanging from its neck and a little later he could distinguish that it wasn't a big headed animal as he had first thought, wouldn't surprise him any if it were, but that it had a white hat instead and his sister saw it too as she blew a sigh and waved at it to draw closer.

"A News Gull, then. Think it has something of note?"

He still liked to call them News Coo, but that was how people called them everywhere else but not in the North, here it was News Gull because somehow the press had broken off from the World Government and refused to even call their deliveries the same. Or at least that was how people said it was, but they had trouble believing that when the leader of it was that Miss Stussy.

"Just hoping it doesn't have the Monkey's photo yet,"

"Right. Pray that he hasn't butted head with the axe hand yet,"

"You could try doing too,"

"And risk bursting in flames? No thank you,"

Shaking his head he took another drag just as the bird started setting on their rail, it squawked something miserable and took to the air when it saw Loco staring at it from behind Martina. She chided it and pushed him away with her leg before standing before the news delivery, who kept stealing glances at the big cat, it looked mighty worried about the cat and Nicolas couldn't shake the feeling that it would pounce on it any second now.

"Puma,"

He warned with a hiss that had the feline staring back at him, its eyes narrowing in challenge. There was no doubt that the damn thing could understand him and just like Martina it loved to see him rage. It took a slow step forward and his teeth bit into the cigar a bit.

"Stop bothering him, he might get it right this time and run you through,"

Was all Martina had to say and the cat sniffed condescendingly, as if his chances of getting him were nil and worth nothing. He wanted to flicker to its side and grab it, just to see it scared again, but he was the helmsman right now and he wasn't about to abandon his post just for that. His sister took the paper it offered and turned around, the bird making every noise it could and twisting its wing to point at the little bag on its chest in alarm and righteous outrage.

"Nico, please pay him,"

Rolling his eyes to the sky and beyond he fished a thousand berries bill and waved it, the bird turned its too big eyes towards him and flew, picking the bill with its beak, settling on the sail's wood and pocketing it before climbing up the sky and going on its way. His sister kept looking at it fly and he wasn't sure if she was looking at it with envy or just measuring the shot to get the money back, he tried to take her attention before she did the latter.

"And? What does it say?"

"Nothing much. A freighter was lost in the West Blue, a pirate called Red Cap Jon stole a merchant's wife, oh. Oh! Hear this, _the island of Goral was readying itself for the execution of high time criminal Baron when the pirate upstart Trafalgar Law decided to interfere. The rookie took down the two Marine Captains assigned to the garrison in a head on confrontation before freeing the killer and taking to sea with him,"_

"That's a big oh,"

"Right it is, think we will meet with the Flamingo Hunter? He is cute in the photo,"

"Martina, you might have the worst taste in men I have ever seen. The man is called the Surgeon of Death and all hung up on killing and revenge,"

She barked a short laugh at that.

"As if you never struck it with one a few players short in the head. And you can't deny he has that tough guy attitude going for him. Even if he is all frown, I know I can get him to smile if you get my meaning?"

"I do, and I hope I didn't,"

"Prude,"

"Brat,"

"Cue ball head,"

"Melon chest,"

"Why, thank you,"

He just hoped they would pick up someone shortly, being confined to a floating tub alone with his sister was testing at the best of times and torture at the worst.

[O.o]

The vanilla fell one drop at a time, one burst of sweet aroma after another, right into the fluffy mix of butter and sugar and eggs. It was more sugar than anything but that was how he liked it, and the cat couldn't take that much sugar so all the better. That was how he relaxed, the moments that let him stay clear of his nerves and everything besides, it was in the smells that fluttered what put him in a spell that had him breathing slow and steady and without a worry in the world. It was his country, his family, and his kin that he was honoring with every plate, with every part of tradition and dedication he poured over them.

This was his altar, and nothing disturbed him here.

"Nicolas!"

Nothing disturbed him here.

"Nicooolas!"

Nothing.

The door almost flew from its hinges as Martina kicked it open, it slammed against the wall when they held themselves fast and he looked at the almost finished dough sadly. There was no mistake she was about to ask him to do something that would take him away from putting the finishing touches. And he sighed at that.

"What?"

He asked, resigned to his fate of being the man of the ship and thus the one that did the lifting.

"You shat a storm! I can't go the bath because you murdered it!"

"Come again?"

"Stop! Eating! Spicy! Things! I had to shoot myself in the nose after I opened the door!"

"Well, open a window,"

There wasn't much to do for that business and he felt himself smile at that, he could finish his dough it seemed.

"There are no fucking windows here. Not unless I start hacking at the wood and I don't want us making water so do something,"

"Use vinegar and lemon and it will go away,"

He gave her his back as he fetched a big bottle of vinegar and another of lemon juice, turning around he put them forward for her to grab. But she only looked at them, her eye twitching funnily.

"You messed it up, you go clean it up,"

"I'm busy,"

"You can come back to cooking after cleaning. I am about to pee myself!"

He was going to put a lock on the kitchen's door and he was going to lock the place every single time he had to cook so that no one could bother him or burst in. _Cleaning will have to do for now,_ he thought sullenly.

* * *

Hallo! A bonus chapter, though it should have been last sundays. The song is real enough and called Ringaroo at Cooper's inn by The Banished Privateers

Also, last chapter's song was a rough translation I did from Mas Atorrante Que Nunca by Cacho Castaña -my favourite singer-

Cheerios


	17. Chapter 16

The port of Schiavo was a thing of wonder, for them the island looked more port than land as wooden structures laid sprawled over the sea and reached out like waiting hands towards the incoming ships. It was a giant of splinters and nails that made its living from the sea, from every vessel that brought cargo from the most distant spaces of the Blues, there were frigates freeing pinnaces loaded to the brim with crates and men, some of them so very heavy they were a scarce few fingers away from the water. Those were the people that cursed in every language they knew when someone went by them making waves. Like the Beatriz and her crew were doing.

"Go!" bellowed Martina as she aimed their prow fatally close to the thumb of one of the wooden hands.

Nicolas muttered a prayer and made a holy sign over his heart as he took off the deck of the ship before turning around and shouldering the schooner back, barely feeling the metal plate of the spine and its rivets as he armoured his skin and let it be safe from chafing and bruises. The worst part of being able to lift heavy things was that when people needed something, they made way for you and gave you a smile as they asked and thanked you before you could say otherwise. Not that he would throw his sister to the wharf and let her do this kind of things but still he would complain, if for time's sake at least.

"We need a better way of mooring, sis," he spoke as he pressed his fingers against the crook of his shoulder. There was no pain there, it was just to soften her a bit.

"We could shoot hooks from our cannons too, if you are tired of it. Tiny ones, so that we don't break the wood too much," her ideas lately seemed to revolve around shooting. All unacceptable, of course, but she still thought of them out loud.

"Let's try to get better at eyeing distance first,"

"I can do that already. Thing we need to do is eyeing where we will stop," she quipped just as a lad, thin as a nail and with a sense of too much energy and too wild an eye, came to them. He was all smiles that didn't reach his eyes and didn't show a tooth, a polite mask.

"Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome to Schiavo, the Island of merchantry and commerce and everything in between-" he started, his arms open wide as if to hug the both of them before Martina interrupted him.

"They are synonyms half head. They mean the same thing," she gave him a snort as his face crumbled a little, but the kid took well to the scat and ignored it completely, continuing his introduction.

"My name is Merol. I manage the rest and care of ships and boats and all vessels docked in our beautiful port, me and mine are the most reputable people you will find to take care of your ship while you take care of your business in the island," his hand coming to the front and rubbing his thumb against his index in a gesture that was universal across worlds.

Martina looked less than enthused by the idea, in point of fact, she looked very ready to throw the man into the sea while he kept smiling and waiting for them as if there was not a thing that could go wrong with his speech. Nicolas could only shake his head.

"And if we don't want you or yours near our ship?" she growled, that angry fire of a voice she used on the stupid felt almost scorching.

Merol opened his eyes a crack, narrow and bad as an arrow slit, and he spoke low and hard as if he had an army behind him instead of open sea. "Well, that's not how things work here. Everyone pays, then we pay and everyone is happy. Just buy your peace, only thing for free here is trouble,"

Nicolas saw that storm that was in his sister's eyes, so he grabbed her before she could drown the boy and put a couple bills in his hand, his eyes hard on him and daring him to complain about the amount. And when he was about to, he allowed a sip of aura to leak, a smidgen of weight that rested on his shoulders and made him pause and think better. He didn't like it, didn't like pressing people like that, but he knew he would like it less if he let Martina keep arguing and have them marked in the first port they got to. He just wanted to celebrate, just that.

They made their way away from their ship, never really knowing if they were leaving the wharf behind or just walking to another one of the giant's hands as everyone was forced to pack themselves tight, lest they spill over the narrow planks and end up in the sea and under a mooring ship. But going from the sounds and screams that came from time to time, that was a common occurrence round here. The worst part wasn't the tight feeling of the press of bodies, or the heat, or the sweat, no, the worst were the hard bellowing merchants with their grubby hands trying to force you to look at their wares. The yammering beggars that were thin as straw that broke his heart, ringing their metal cups with their pitiful coins like bells that sunk his conscience one ring at a time. And the rough handed, rough faced dockers snarling and frowning and cursing at every person that came close, at every knot that was done wrong, and at every rope that was thrown their way.

It seemed that his hopes of a wondrous voyage were more wondrous than the trip so far.

Martina was still sore by the extortion at the docks, chaffed at the pride when he didn't let her chew the boy and she made it plenty clear.

"You gave him too much money,"

"Maybe, but we aren't fighting thanks to that,"

"That rat bastard is going to think he can walk all over us now. He is going to try bill us again," he could almost imagine his sister frothing at the thought of paying for something twice.

"No, he isn't. He said he payed as well, meaning he has someone watching over his shoulder trying to keep him from going overboard,"

"Oh please, he isn't a banker, he could scarcely count, he is a toy soldier from some gang or something of the like. They thrive off others, like leeches and tapeworms," spat Martina with as much disgust as she could muster. If there was something that simply burned her was being looked down upon, being underestimated was poison and fire for her and not something she forgot about easily.

"Martina. You've seen too many movies," he said, dismissing the idea. Not out of meanness or anything of the like but because paranoia was the last thing he needed, having another thing to slowly cook his nerves over when they should be feasting about having completed the first piece of their journey. He hugged her with one arm as he spoke.

"He was just making a coin out of the port, he isn't going to touch us here in the city. We aren't even going to see him until we go back, so can we just relax tonight? I want to enjoy this peace at least,"

She sniffed and raised her chin, and he didn't know if she was offended by the state of the island or by his words until she rolled her eyes and let her grin show through, Loco climbing back to her shoulders when he felt she wasn't in a foul mood no more.

"Fine! But you pay, I need something to blame for still feeling like I am on deck and on a rough sea," grabbing him by the shoulder she barged into the first inn they found and bellowed with barely held anticipation, "Wine!"

Nicolas stared at the swinging tower of plates that he had piled on a table the owner had been nice enough to pull near them, he was full like a tanker and just as happy. To enjoy something other than fish and fish and clams and sea food was a blessing for him, he was sick and tired of the monotony of their dishes, of the limited variety he could bring to their plates and was deeply ashamed that he had been forced to serve the same food twice. If only his sister could have just enjoyed the meal in peace, with a quiet chat and perhaps each discreetly finding someone to enjoy the rest of the night, but no.

No.

He turned and looked at her as she held a bottle by the neck, singing softly to the lips of it and he wanted to roll his eyes as she started to include the other guests in her songs. Playfully smacking a man's arm with the compliment of the song and making him blush or hit his chest in pride, kissing her palm and pressing it against a boy that must have been in his first trip just like them. Not so playfully smacking the back of the head of a guy that touched her behind, his head bouncing against the table and going back to sitting straight once again. He made sure to remember that one's face, because he was going to have to answer a couple of questions.

Martina was not done then, she retreated to a dark corner for some theatre as everyone looked at her. Before strutting out with the exaggerated sway of a drunk, she swung to one side and people made to catch her and she jumped over them, not once breaking her singing. He felt like going elsewhere, maybe another bar, but he worried what she would do if left alone. Trouble, more than likely, trouble seemed like the only answer as two men came towards her.

[O.o]

Coltello came out from the riot that was the first street of the island and came upon an alley blocked by trash and dregs and wood stacked high to make a roof, he kicked everything apart. Tore it away and freed the path, he looked down and saw the leg of his pants had been scratched by a nail or some other thing that also caught him across the shin. Today was that kind of days, the kind that you set out with every intention of doing well and fate shows you just how bloody wrong you were about it. His split lip throbbed at the thought, swollen and red just like his shame, one of his men handed him a handkerchief when they saw blood began spilling again.

He burned remembering how it was broken by his own father, he was his blood and he had struck him down for trying to set the scum of this place right. For making a man apologize for speaking ill of his father and then showing him what happened when you didn't watch your mouth. He had seen him eye to eye and backhanded him with his ring crusted hand, had grabbed him by the scruff and said, _'the words of the weak are dust to all, Coltello, nobody cares what an idiot has to say. But actions are different, they stick with us, mould our image in their heads. How will I go about doing business if people think I can't even keep my own son on a leash? Never again act on my part, never justify something thinking I will like it because that chance is not much more than fantasy, understood?'_

He spat another glob of blood as he thought about his father, about his cold face looking at him as if he was his biggest mistake and did nothing but bring shame as he grew when all he did was for the family. All he did was keep the masses from thinking low of them, but it wasn't what he wanted and it seemed he no longer trusted him to even walk on his own, he thought as he turned his head to look at his father's personal bodyguard keeping her distance from them. Her black skin shined like agate whenever she stepped into the light of the Den lamps, her hair was a riot of braids and tangles and curls that were weighed down by coins twisted and plied together at the end of each. And he hated her. Hated how she always looked like she was looking at someone that had nothing to do with her, even thought she worked for his family. How she never deigned to look at him outside of his meetings with his father, and how he always knew she was there through the jingle that her steps made, like a hundred hundred marbles hitting each other.

The four of them came upon the Prancing Prawn, a shit hole as big and dirty as the rest of the ones lining up the streets of the border with the docks. He chose somewhere away from where he would be seen by those he knew, those that liked to call themselves his friends and suck at his wallet, he couldn't be seen like this. Not after having partied all night last night after his deal in Triesto had gone so very well, after he had gotten his hands on that small coffer he had wanted to gift his father, he spat again, it would be his now then and a pox on the man.

"Ah, Mr. Mondo, we weren't expecting someone so respectable in our little establishment. You do us an honour," the owner gushed a stream of polite words that he would have answered in kind any other day, but not today.

"I do. Give us a table on the first floor," he spoke drily and strode in without waiting for the man to regain his wits.

"Anything you would like to eat? We have pasta with a sea food sauce that is simply delightful,"

"No. Give us ale and wine and rum and leave us,"

Diena, his father's hired hand, sat away from them on another table, a whole lot of furniture in between them as if she couldn't handle being put together with them. And the drink turned even more sour as he thought of it, as her disrespect swivelled around his spoiled mind. It just wasn't fair, to have every piece of effort spat on and rejected ever since he could understand what his father's cold eyes held for him. He looked down and at those on the lower level and set to look someone to spend his time with, he was shit in everyone's head and that was fine by him, it meant he could do what he wished since he wouldn't sink lower. And if he did? Well, damn them then.

Eyes capturing a figure that stood in the gloom of the building, her face and body hidden in the places were the Den lamps and their shining eyes couldn't reach. When he looked around he realized he wasn't the only one, every other person was glued to her, waiting in silent patience for her to do something. And when she did move it looked like the wind had caught her, her body swinging like she was caught in its claws and was its prisoner, her bare feet fleeting over the green rotten boards like doves over the trees. She was beautiful like few and hypnotic as none other.

"Don't even try it. You will get hurt," Diena whispered from the other side of the room, as if guessing his mind. She must have known all along that he would do something of the like, known it all along even though it was the first time he even entertained the idea.

"You aren't here to advise me and if it was up to me you wouldn't be here at all," he snarled with the poison that had infected him from the shame and hurt that had become his companion for that night.

She just shook her head, coins ringing and jingling against each other as Balo went down the stairs with an easy gait, fingers locked behind his back as he jumped down two steps at a time while Tero followed him, careful of not missing a single step, hands gripped tight on the rail.

[O.o]

Nicolas sopped a piece of bread on the remaining sauce in his plate as he watched the men walking down the stairs and making a bee line towards Martina. He tasted the ink in the sauce and the grainy texture of the bread as they came face to face with her and put the plate with crumbs and remains on the floor for Loco. His chair shrieked against the floor as he drew it near to them so that he could hear them speak and see if he had to step in. Sharpening his ears while looking at the floor he heard them speak as the cat sniffed at the remains with disdain and pushed it away.

"We hope you are having a lovely night, lady. We are from the Mondo family and you are?"

"Oh my, such good manners. The name is Martina, what you need boys?" she smiled innocently at them as she changed the grip on her bottle so that it was easier to break it on someone's head. He would try to interrupt before it came to that.

"Well, we don't need a thing. It's just our boss was so taken by your singing he wanted to invite you upstairs, for a private act, would you be so kind as to follow us please?" the bundle of twigs with a beany said as he bowed and used an arm to show her to the stairs. But Martina wasn't that compliant, he couldn't remember a time she ever was, she grabbed the boy's chin with two fingers and made him raise before giving him two soft slaps like a grandmother would a child and shook her head.

"Sorry boys, but everyone here is taken with me as well. Can't leave for one and leave so many wanting, now can I?" beany man was red with anger now and the other boy wasn't so far behind in colour. And he took it as the moment to play peace keeper as he sighed deep and mournfully.

Standing behind her he looked down upon the two of them, one hand resting on one of his sister's shoulders before he spoke deep and rumbling like every other time he had seen men trying to force her with them.

"Martina, let's go back to the table. Your plate must be cold already," he said as he looked at the both of them in the eyes in turn, his jaw clicking finally with the sound of a lock closing and beany and follower looked at him maybe measuring their chances or maybe not sure what to do next.

"But I was talking to them and singing, can't leave an audience waiting," and there was a grin in her eyes, enjoying everything that was happening and hoping it would end up in a brawl.

"You will sing upstairs next, so let's go," Nicolas felt the vein in his neck surface as the bundle of twigs tried to grab his sister's arm, felt the man's muscles groan as he caught him in one hand and lifted him by the wrist so that they could talk face to face. It was his sister that they were trying to manhandle, his sister damn it.

"Try to touch her again and you will find out how cold the sea is tonight," he heard a little whistle go on behind him and a little clapping from Martina and he knew he would be getting a theatre out of it for months to come.

"Let him go! Let him go! He is from the Mondo family you idiots!" bellowed the owner as he tried to lower his arm by jumping up and down in a frenzy. Behind him the other one had pulled a knife and tried to stab him with the man still in front, he pulled him aside and took the blade in his side, reinforced with Tekkai and armoured in Haki the steel broke against his skin and the gang member was left with just a hilt.

 _That's it,_ he thought as he let go and grabbed twigs by the chest and used him to club the other into submission. _Try to stab me, did you? Try to take my sister, did you? Think we are yours, don't you?_

"You crazy bastard! Those were the men of the Mondo family's son, you crossed him! In my tavern!" he wailed and grabbed the few strands of hair he had left as he looked at the heap Nicolas had made.

Martina strutted forward and kicked one in the leg and heard him groan, she scratched her head as she looked at the owner and said, "we are new around here. One name move us as much as the next," and with that she put her boots back on, wore her cat around her shoulders as usual and made to leave. Nicolas looked at the two men he had injured, throat a little dry now, and took out several bills put some in their hands and some under the plates and with that he left.

Bad manners to leave without paying, bad for the conscience to leave people hurt and not paying for the hospital. _And all wrong comes around_ , he thought.

* * *

Sweeties, here is the update. Want to hear what you think about the story! Am I taking the magic of One Piece with my story telling or am I changing it? Do the characters feel like people or are they bland? Speak and I shall harken.


	18. Chapter 17

In a wide room that was barren as the sea outside a man sat still against a wall, his arms going round and round his wide trunk and his legs folded as close to his chest as they would go. Eyes closed and breath soft he kept his ears peeled to listen at the people outside. He heard the shouts, the screams, the calls, and everything in between and his lips turned downwards as he remained there without hearing a single note outside of the usual. Only the anger and the shame and the lust of everyday was outside, there was no one with anything softer than iron on the other side of the wall.

And so his day went by, limbs folded and eyes closed, waiting for a scuttling sound to make its way to his room and let him taste something new, something to let him hear his heart beat to a different rhythm. But it was a fact that everyone wore a chain that they had to follow, that there were only so many places they could go to and only so many faces they could show before it started yanking at them and pulling at their necks. There were but a few that were free to make music as they pleased, and it was those that he was dragged to deal with. To pound them until they fit back in their irons, and he felt his lips sink further.

Right when the colours that seeped by the small window above his head began to turn into the wounded reds and stained yellow voices started to enter. They were of a woman and a man and he heard them loud and clear, their words making his heart drum in his chest as they spoke in songs that were new to his ears. Their voices went up and down as they chatted, the words were raised and twisted and stretched to fit as much of what they were into them and as much of what they wanted. The man spoke with the voice of a drum, a low sound that went all the way to the bones and shook them, he spoke by raising and softening his words going from a war to a whisper in the same sentence. But it was the woman that made his heart punch in his chest, her voice was the one guiding, the one that set the pace of everything and he could hear the people fall silent as she spoke, her notes went over that of others and called for attention and he had no instrument to compare it to. He hadn't heard enough plays to put a name to the metal and wood that could put such eager notes in the air. But it was so sweet a song that it did not matter a bit.

But just as they came, they started leaving, and his throat clenched as their songs grew dimmer and his world started going back to being just the barren room, as their notes became the bricks and their voices the bars over the window. He stood up, for the first time, and his arms went this way and that until his hands gripped the sill and pulled him up, he needed to see. There was a question in his heart that needed an answer, who was it that made such music. He needed to put a face to such a wonder just like everything else in the world needed a name.

His mouth was dry and bitter with disappointment as his eyes couldn't find them, all there was outside were the backs of people dragging their chains back or away from their home. His lips sunk further down, and he thought they might fall off his chin.

"We could use some light here," a voice like sand on rust came from the corridor of the door and he bundled himself back again, as small as possible, as weak as possible. Even if they kept him for being all the opposites.

"Remember to bring a lamp next time then," another soft like wind through a keyhole answered as the locks came undone and the sheets of metal were pulled back into the corridor with a screech of protest from the hinges.

"Someone needs to oil that, gives me the foams every single time,"

"Have you ever thought that that someone might need to be you? Ever crossed your mind?" the man with the soft voice was the first to leave the gloom and step in the red light of the room. His face was soft as his voice as were his arms and his belly, he was but a big soft bit, and he remembered he had said he bruised easily when he had brought him a meal and had a black eye that had turned every other shade of colour throughout a month.

"I am paid to protect you. Not clean," retorted the one with a rash that went up his neck, all orange like the rust in his voice.

"Well you should see if your skills can reach all the way to oiling a door and remembering to bring a light. Maybe then I will get a day free of your complaints,"

The one with the rash eyed him as he grumbled under his breath and undid the locks upon his feet, the bonds upon his neck, and lastly the one on his waist. Great lengths of iron and bronze fell to the floor in a rattling heap and pooled there like a snake's shed skin, one made of grey scales and jaws of linked metal.

"You can stretch later, move it," the tip of a blade prodded him and its sting made itself known every single time, always close to his back, always close enough to hurt even if there was no reason to. He was going nowhere but where they pointed at, they should know that by now.

"Did you take off the chains this time?" asked the man that had bought him all those years ago when his scars where still raw and he could still remember which face that swum in his memories belonged to whom.

"Yes, Mr. Lotta. Aught a scratch on the boards or anything," answered the one with the rash, hands pressed to his body and trying to be as small as he could. Just another slave without a chain.

"Very well you can leave us now," and he bounded out the door quick like a mouse and just as scared and he was left looking at the floor, waiting for his orders. "You are with Orillas tonight, you know where he is," and with that he was dismissed just as quickly as he came.

The man called Orillas was an old hand at this kind of work, had been with the Master even before him and he had a seen a lot of moons and listened to a lot of bands while here. So that meant he had been here for a long long time, more than he knew how to count, more than there were numbers, surely. But at least he was a kind old man with steel grey hair that went down to his shoulders and his beard touched his chest, he always kept a comb to cover a patch of cheek that had a big bald spot and never failed to give him something. Even when he had done nothing to deserve it.

"Ah, child. You are here! And with an hour to spare to practice writing. Want to do that?" the slave was thankful to him for talking and not expecting an answer for no matter how hard he desired it, he had no way of making a sound. And that hurt, almost as bad as watching his hands scribble the paper, letters, words, and sentences but scratches of ink, cuts of black that were simply wounds. It hurt to be tone deaf, to not be able to sing like everyone. But that was his punishment.

A hand rested upon his shoulder, Orillas peeking over him at the paper and smiling as if he had done a good job, "here boy, have some before we leave. Rest until then," and he handed him a piece of candy wrapper full of wild colours and silly pictures. He let it rest in his mouth until it melted into nothing, it tasted of nothing.

Their work today was in one of the docks at the back of the island, one of the fists as they were called by most people for they were hidden from those coming to moor. They served as the out of sight spot for those bringing goods that were better off unnamed. Why they couldn't be named he didn't know nor understand, everything needed a name to be worth something. He was named slave and that was worth nine hundred thousand and five hundred bellies. The men near him were named goons and were worth twenty thousand a week, give or take actions that demanded more, everything with a name had a price.

The goons of tonight were a rough lot, dirty heads with hair plastered to their scalps by the pattering drizzle. Some had frowns, others had complaints with voices broken or jagged like old metal, and others just stood there maybe hoping to be worth more after tonight. And he was apart from them, besides Orillas who kept a sad smile on his face as he turned to let the strings of his voice sound to catch everyone's attention.

"Lads, we are cracking down upon a group that chose to bring some substance to our docks. That chose to spit on us and our children's fate by putting poison by them. What will we tell them?" he roared in the rain, droplets falling off his beard as his voice like a guitar was strung by sad notes.

"Back to the sea with you!" they clamoured like broken recorders, no emotion in their voices. They were as dead as the sound of foot falls and scraping soles and rustling blades, there was no song to be heard in them. They were tone deaf just like him. And the old man knew he was the only one that felt anything for what they were doing but still tried to inspire in them, hoping that his words might strike a piece of them that would make some noise. He had had seen this time and time again, sometimes it worked, most times it didn't.

"Show me you mean it then," he answered.

They spread out around the two ships that had come, a pair of galleys with prows caked in the green of rot and ruin with figure heads of beasts that had their paint torn from them by the claws of time and sea. The rails had flakes of white all over them like the thorns of a bramble, and the masts were withered and old like trees ready to be made wood.

He was sent to be first on deck, stretching his arms he grabbed the wood by the tip of his fingers to avoid being seen and swung around the ship, leaving the planks of the docks behind and having nothing but the black waters below. He was told to be silent, make sure no one hears a thing before they are aboard. He was already at the stern when he heard something, a whistle that reached him despite the rain, a funny tune that he hadn't heard yet and it was coming from one of the windows near him just a meter or two away. It was as good a place to start as any other.

His fingers gripped tight around the little bars that held the rails up, he inched closer to the window. Slowly. Silently. And the whistling grew, to his delight, a sharp sound that tickled his ears and gave him goose bumps and then it climbed higher like a dove, ever higher and full of life. Eyes closing he gave let his ears do all they were meant to do, he was taken by it, taken by the beauty he couldn't reach. His chest was barely hidden the window's frame now, but he didn't care. The song had to be heard.

But like all in his life, like all that is good it ended abruptly. A voice rose within the cabin and the song was cut to pieces by it, torn down from its flight, its wings broken and feathers scattered and just like that something in him screamed. His chest sunk at its death and his hand reached inside, one arm long as a snake took the one that had killed the melody by the neck and dragged him out the window. Their head cracking against the frame as he didn't fit through it and their body slumping on the floor when the slave gave up on throwing them into the sea as everyone had said they should do.

He went inside, his arms dragging his body forward like those of a spider, joints clicking and snapping into odd positions as he fit himself through the opening. There were two men, the one that had been whistling was wide eyed, slack jawed, and snow pale while the other was white eyed from the hit. And once in there was a job to do, he tore down the planks around the window and broke them apart before lifting the unconscious man and throwing him back to the sea, the other one hadn't even made a sound since. Looking back at him he saw he was frozen in place and had not move a finger away from his spot, the slave had a job to do but the man had gifted him something precious and so he was in a dilemma.

Should he grab him and throw him or should he punch him and throw him, but he was scared that if he punched him he would break his teeth or bite his tongue and then he wouldn't be able to whistle. He couldn't afford to take something like that from someone, but he also couldn't afford to wrong his job. So he tried a third option. He pointed one finger at the whistler until he reacted, still quiet and that was good, with two fingers he signalled for the man to walk and then jump with one hand over the other.

And the man screamed, it was sad to do it but he hit him, a gob of blood sailed away from his mouth and the sound like breaking glass stopped. His lips were pulled down once again as he grabbed the man by the shirt and threw him into the sea. There was a lesson there, he thought, and that was what starts bad ends mostly the same way, he concluded as he threw the door down the corridor to break a man's leg and catch another under its weight. His hands taking both and dragging them along to the hole that led towards the night.

Back to the sea they said and back to the sea they go.

The job was done by the time the spluttering rain was over and by the time Orillas' beard stopped dripping they were back at their Master's house. They stood outside the room as Diena spoke, her voice was nice, like the song of the sea that tinkles the thousand thousand little pebbles against each other. A song of calm waves and soft caresses.

"He broke an arm and a pair of ribs on Coltello's boys, did as you told me and didn't involve myself since your son stayed upstairs," she said and he could hear the little tinkling become a little rougher. Anger probably or just frustration.

"And why in hell didn't you stop them?"

"I tried, told him they would get hurt and he told me to scram. Thought they all needed a bit of a harsh lesson,"

"If I tell you to keep him out of trouble, you keep him out of trouble if you have to bash him in the head for it! He can't keep behaving like this and you let him? How does that make me look?"

"Can't hit your son boss and that's a fact,"

"Let me tell you what is a fact! You not doing your job, that's a hard fact if I'm a judge," he bellowed with the sound of someone sharpening a knife. It was dangerous to go in now.

"I am sorry boss," the words were crushed out of her, "but he needs to learn that no one outside will bend their knee to him. Only way he can learn that is if someone knees him hard enough,"

"I am the one that decides what to do with my son!" there was some rustling inside, the sound of wood hitting wood and then there was silence and then a sigh, "do me a favour and see who this people were. Don't do anything to them, don't touch them or follow them, just find out who they are,"

"Yes, sir," and Diane came out the office with a grim set to her face that settled when she saw him. She gave him a pat and went to shout at someone else, she treated him the same as Orillas and he didn't know why but it was nice. He just hoped he could end the day without being yelled by the Master. Hoped to be wrong in what he had learnt a few hours ago.

* * *

Still sunday over here so it isn't a late chapter, lol. I have been shearing off the edges off my ideas this time around. Choosing songs and names and people and the most important. Their pirate names! Anyways hope you had a Merry Crisis and a Happy New Year, I got plastered at both instances so it was pretty good.


	19. Chapter 18

Martina took a deep breath of fresh air as soon as she got the rust crusted lock of the window open, the cold winds of the sea prickled her cheeks and washed the sleep as the salt left an aftertaste in her mouth. It was damn nice to wake up and not have to brace your legs for the inevitable fall of the ship when it cut through a wave or ignore the wet when said wave splashed upon the deck and soaked you to the bone.

Ah, but nothing beat the feeling of waking up to notifications, _yes, nothing better,_ she thought with a smile dancing at the tip of her lips. So innocent, so very true and naïve that it made her look a child. Ever since ending up here Martina had come to enjoy the little things, to treasure every little thing dearly. And Levelling was capital among the things she treasured, the ocean blue that announced her strength could bring the music of trumpets to her ears and when it was something like her new Class? Oh. It was a concert. A parade! A Festival! And her smile bloomed to show all of her white, white teeth, like the smile of a cat preening and showing itself so that the world could bask in its greatness.

But all moments had to end, and nothing could end her joy more abruptly than her brother's mating call. That horrible screech that could deafen a banshee, that sound like files scraping at glass and his lump of a body twisting and turning and making the bed and the floor groan. She looked at it and wondered if she should have put him in a room at ground level because those boards didn't look all too happy to support his fat ass.

"You trying to take a spot in an opera or just trying to be as big a pain in the ass as you can?" she was done putting up with him, there would be no more room sharing. She should have known, they were both too old to be sharing a one but it had been so expensive to rent two. So wasteful.

"I can't wake up if I don't do this, you know it," he answered with his eyes closed and she rolled hers sky high but quickly felt her good mood coming back to her, one wave of satisfaction at a time.

"Did you level last night?" She asked, all curiosity and anticipation. Not to know what he would say but wanting to speak about her Class. Her Skill! But the big oaf didn't seem to share much of her energy as he smacked his dry mouth twice and squinted at the rafters, as if the notifications would come back to him if he called them strongly enough.

"Nothing," he sighed, "Nothing changed, not my level and not the amount of Classes I have," and with that he nestled deeper into his sheets and closed his mouth and that was it. No questions about if she had something to say, if she had levelled or something, the string of conversation ending just like that. She thought about how someone that was so damn strict with manners and such could be so fucking rude, where were his manners? He should be asking back, should be querying and returning the ball to her. That was all manners were about wasn't it? Just a way for people to share what they wanted without looking like they were bragging, a more humble way of showing off.

But it seemed he wasn't about to give her that pleasure, her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek she looked at him until an idea struck her. If he wouldn't ask about it then she was being forced to show it, wasn't she? Martina spoke around the smile playing at her lips. "You know I earned a Class," he grunted, "and a Skill," another throaty sound came from the lump in the bed, "it's called [Commanding Presence]"

And with that said she stood ram rod straight as she let her Skill swallow her, allowed it to manifest through her as the air around became heavier and she felt her face twisting into a frown. Nicolas stirred from his bed to look at her when her heels snapped together with a smart click and then she bellowed her orders, "Get Up, Sailor!"

His response was a scene for a movie, or the army, as he ripped the sheets off his body, throwing them across the room and throwing himself up into the air with a jerk of his legs to stand at attention right next to his bed. His chest all puffed up like a duck and his chin up, all in all the perfect image of a toy soldier, and oh how she enjoyed the look of confusion morphing into annoyed resignation.

"I am [Captain] Martina now, if you didn't figure it out,"

Nicolas squinted his eyes at her before chewing away the obscenity in his mouth and answered, "you don't say,"

"Oh but I do, and I would be more than happy if you called me Captain," she tapped her chin thoughtfully before clicking her tongue sharply, "but I don't want people to forget that I am a Doctor. Your gods would weep if they found out that my efforts were overlooked, but Doctor Captain is too much of a hassle. Don't you think?"

She enjoyed every second of her revenge, how she loved to drill her brother's thick head with stupid, little things when he annoyed her. And let us not forget he made it so very easy. "But I guess I can forgive and forget that indiscretion, after all I have such a big heart. My one fault is that I have too big a heart, don't you think Nico?"

"Sure, you are all love and sweetness," she looked him in the eyes and tilted her neck a bit to the side just like Itse did, "what?" he asked as she stared and said nothing.

"I can't hear the Captain in your sentences,"

"My tongue will sour and fall before I call you that,"

"I am sure you will come around when you need me to pull a bullet off your ass,"

"I would rather take my chances with the bullet,"

[O.o]

Her head snapped back, neck taut as the muscles pulled her straight in her chair and her eyes turned wide as the plates on their table. As the thought streaked away her body relaxed and the air in her chest came out as a long-drawn sigh, tapping the fork and knife together she tried to think about how to tackle this new problem.

"We forgot to call Itse," she informed her curious brother who simply nodded and kept eating. "You have nothing to say to that?"

"No. We forgot. We call her and say we are sorry,"

"Right. And knowing Itse you don't think she is going to shoot at us all the way from Farra Island, do you?" that gave him pause. He took his time to think as he slowly cut a sausage in half and speared both cuts before pushing the whole thing into his mouth. Disgusting.

"We still are in the wrong, Sis. Even if she might shoot at us for it we just tell her,"

"Or, hear me out now, we could say we just arrived and save the drama for another day, right?" she asked hopefully, trying to get him onboard and make sure Nicolas didn't tell on her because if there was one thing he enjoyed it was being a little snitch. Just like a certain metal toothed, rainbow haired man.

"No, Martina," he spoke finally, "lies are too cheap a thing to give to family," he stared at her right in the eyes before speaking again, "and she is family, sis,"

"Well, a bullet from her isn't much of a gift either," she answered as she huffed and crossed her arms, "it's the thought that counts when giving a gift isn't it? So what's the harm?" her words were more sullen now. She had been joking about the lying but like always the slab of fat had taken it seriously, it seemed one couldn't joke around without insulting someone nowadays.

"Martina. Saving your behind isn't much of a thought, you know?"

She looked him appreciatingly from his food stuffed cheeks to his rotund and knife crowded belly, "what I know is that if you started dressing in all blacks you could pass for a priest with all your preaching,"

He raised one brow at her, "just for telling you not to lie?"

"Yes! Lies are everywhere! Everybody lies and its what makes this world turn around, its what makes it possible for people to live without killing each other. There would be fights left and right if everyone just started saying what they think of each other,"

"Maybe so, but we should always try to be better. Or at least try not to choose the easy thing to do,"

"This must be why good people die early, the fuckers must be exhausted at the end of the day,"

"Language," she flipped him the bird as it was customary, and they kept stacking their plates high as they chipped at their hunger one bite at a time. They would need the strength to deal with the storm that would be Itse. She was tired of just thinking about it.

[O.o]

"Gacha~ Moshi, moshi?" came the response from the snail as its face morphed, twisting and turning to accommodate the wrinkles around its eyes, the grey swathes of hair that started to grow upon the eyebrows that moved back to form a full wig. The word revolting wasn't enough to describe the transformation this god forsaken creatures were capable of, but as with anything that was useful Martina was ready to overlook these outward flaws they had. Mostly by looking up or in any other direction.

"Grandma!" they both called almost at the same time, a little excitement mixing with their fear of being caught and making them restless. The snail squinted as they all waited to receive a response before its eye stalks started to sway from one side to the other, slowly, familiarly, it looked like Itse took her time even when speaking to the snails.

"I am sorry but all my Grandchildren are accounted for here," the transponders mouth lifted a smidgen in a show of disgust, "the only ones left are those that forgot about me and didn't bother to call me again. Hard to call them grandchildren after that, yes?" Martina was about to sweep her face with a hand and try to erase the frustration but those fist sized blobs eyed her and if she didn't know better she would have thought Itse could see them.

"Please don't be like that. We are calling to tell you we arrived," Nicolas tried to pacify her.

"And you are only going to call when you arrive? I haven't heard a thing about you during the trip, don't know if you fought someone or if someone is hurt or married," Itse exaggerated as her snail trembled and almost fell off the table.

"It was a busy voyage, we had to make sure everything was on point three times for each detail. It was our first sea walk! We forgot, we barely slept!" Martina tried to defend them from the hag's accusations, "and how would we get married at sea? Are you wrong in the head?" her voice was almost a laugh as she thought of a little church ship coming and going marrying pirates off.

"How would I know, we had a priest in our ship and he loved marrying people. Didn't matter if they said no at the wedding, he just liked reciting the verses while they were together," Itse's impersonator smirked at that. "And don't try to lie to me, think I never washed my feet in the waves? There is nothing idler than a sailor, you could have called me at any time. Both of you, Nicolas,"

"Well, what's done is done, Grandma. Least we called you when we arrived at Schiavo, that's something right?"

"It would be if you had called me yesterday," the Den-Den murmured and they both heard that last bit. She looked at him and he nodded as they both eyed it suspiciously, Nicolas taking a seat right next to her as this little piece of information caught his fleeting attention.

They both stared at the snail as it kept its swaying eyes moving from one to the other, taking them in? Watching? Could there be a snail to do that? If that thing existed there was no doubt that a New World veteran would have no trouble in acquiring one, it would be nice to know this kind of things. Just thinking about getting her hands on some jamming and tapping Den-Dens set the idea on stone.

"What got you children so silent? Guilt bit your tongues?" Nicolas skidded over, dragging the chair without lifting his ass and making the boards shriek.

"How did you know we arrived yesterday?" it blinked slowly and uncoordinatedly, first the right eye and when the other started to close it began its ascent. It looked like a wink aborted and attempted once again with the other, disturbing little thing.

"Whatever are you on about? You are telling me that not only did you not speak to me while at sea but you _also_ forgot to ring me when touching port?" the voice that crossed over from Farra Island was a whisper like that brought by a sword swung close to your ear, a chill ran its course up her back. Martina pushed the fright and the guilt that Itse was using to move the conversation and kept prying the old thing for her secrets.

"Don't try to turn this on us, the Den-Den caught you muttering to yourself,"

"Nonsense, you didn't call,"

"And you were tracking us!"

"No I wasn't," the swaying stopped and that was as much of a tell as any that the hag had been caught red handed. Gods, she was tracking them!

"So, if we go back to the ship and check it we won't find a weird snail that has no business being there. Right?" Martina spoke in that overly sweet voice she used when she had people to unnerve or annoy or accuse. And it worked, the transponder began to pout and complain in whispers she decided to tone down.

"Fine, I may have put a Red Den-den in one of your cabins. It was more of a reassurance for myself, can't have you children disappear and not know where the hell you were,"

"No, we understand," Nico said after seeing his sister was scratching the back of her head, not really knowing how to answer that.

"You could have asked us to take it, and we would have," Martina finished, not willing to be the ones on their back foot because no one knew what Itse could push them into if they gave her the leeway to do so.

"Maybe, maybe not. This is the kind of things you don't ask about," the snail was back to swaying its eye stalks and grinning victoriously. The hag had a power, a power sharpened and strengthened by decades of being a pain in the ass for Marines and civilians around the world, and that was the ability to madden the fuck out of her from across the sea.

Everything devolved from that point forth, they bantered and cursed and laughed, spoke about the rest of the family and said their greetings to the squirts that had arrived on the other side. They were ecstatic to talk to them it seemed, the snail had to be held down to make sure it didn't vibrate itself into the ground as the children passed the mic around and made it tremble with energy. It was nice to know they were doing so well, and it seemed like Marcelo had managed to wiggle himself into his nona's training sessions. The poor thing didn't know what he was getting into.

She smiled sadly at the transponder once they had hung up and thought of how much she missed them. Missed the late life talks with Itse, the rough housing with the twenty midgets in the house, and the scolding of Itse's son and in law. Sighing into her hand she washed away her humour with a spicy gulp of liquor, whiskey was an excellent drink for brunch, and set herself for business.

"Nico, go to the _Beatriz_ and find us Grandma's Den-Den. We need to start asking around to get more of those,"

"You sure of that? We don't know how rare this are, we should ask Faithful for directions,"

"Where is your adventuring spirit? We have to find out things on our own, how boring would it be if we did nothing but ask for directions? We would be mediocre and dependant then," she tipped her bottle up after finishing her spiel. Truth be told she just forgot about it while speaking to the little ones, it had been too long without hearing about them.

Nicolas sighed and scratched his bald head but nodded in the end, when the door closed behind him Puma peered into the room and padded regally inside. The little ball of fur didn't enjoy being in a confined room with her brother, not enough space to run away she guessed. Feeling him clawing his way up her leg she grinned and grabbed his little head in one hand, making him mewl in indignation as she strapped her belts and readied herself for an outing. There were things to buy, lead and iron for her to make bullets and cannon balls, oil and whetstones for their knives and swords, and cloth after Nicolas stunt managed to put a concerning rip in one of the front sails. The bloody idiot almost killed her from the fright, it felt like being thrown into a storm in a fucking raft.

Checking her two knives and one revolver, she wondered if she should buy more. Perhaps another revolver or a rifle, why not both? Yes, maybe she would buy some more guns after checking the quality. _Outside?_ Came the sharp query, it was a flash in her mind, and intrusive thought if you would like, and she looked at Puma who was sitting in front of the door. _You just came in, you Goblin,_ she sent back at him and received a tilt of the head and a question about what a Goblin was.

Just as she was about to answer him, with a string of lies about Gobs, the tom cat was back at staring at the door. His body letting out a feeling that was walking the edge between curiosity and aggression, a blood speckled, bruised purple trickling from under his brown coat. He slowly turned his head and looked her in the eyes, _Prey?_ He purred. She did not waste time, taking a breath and closing her eyes she allowed her Observation to expand, to take in the colours of the living. Walls blurred together as she looked from outside her body, soon she found herself in a glass box and only capable of telling were the dead pieces of wood were by the position of others. By the position of the seven outside her room.

 _Tricky, tricky,_ she sent Puma.

 _Prey? Hunters?_ He asked, conflicted. She could feel he hated the idea of being cornered, of being prey.

 _With care, they become prey,_

The cat bared its fangs at her, trying to imitate her expression in his own bestial face. _Hunt them, slowly,_ and they smiled at each other, all white teeth and sharp angles.

[O.o]

She wore Puma around her neck as she jumped down the roof from her room's window, her Haki was still locked on the imbeciles outside her door. They seemed to be building up the courage to storm in because the piss yellow colours of nervousness and insecurity still clung to them. _They are unsure, doubting,_ she thought loudly so as to keep her partner updated.

 _Hard, guarded Prey is hard,_ he answered while kneading her vest with his claws.

 _Guarded? You have been studying it seems, you deserve a prize for it,_

 _Yes, I do,_ his chest gave off the sound of a drumroll, all pleased with his self.

They were walking up the stairs now, but a few more steps and they would find the first of the seven thugs. Her right hand pulled out her revolver, the long barrel and big drum almost making it look a revolving rifle, while her left one brought with it one of her two hunting knives. A fat blade that ended in a curve point and all of that weight rested upon a strip of metal thick as a finger that curved upwards at the spine and down at the edge to form a most resilient guard.

She arrived behind them without a sound and stopped where it would be impossible to even feel her breath, and then she started thinking. _How to do this?_ Seven men, ambushed from the back, and taken in a narrow corridor with nowhere to run. _Thought like that it sounds like a porno._ But the problem was still there, what to do, should she bash his head with her pommel or with her grip? Should she announce herself and add a little theatre or play assassin and end them all without a word?

 _Hunt?_ Asked her dear Caracal from besides her feet, he could never settle when there was prey to be had. Such an anxious little thing. But it was true that she was stalling, so she sighed and eyed the lads and smiled from ear to ear as she let her thoughts rest.

 _We hunt~_

And that was all Puma needed to know, he bounded up the wall and jumped onto the back of the first man. Teeth digging viciously into his shoulder, fangs scraping bone and pain and surprise making their way out his mouth. Martina leveled her iron sight at the one right in the middle of the line just as the panic started to spread. The lead took the man in the temple, it rocked his head to the side and made him fall on the next lad just as she pushed Puma's prey to the side and used the tip of her knife to guide the barrel away from them.

It went off, a plume of smoke filled the end of the gun right before where her Haki told her the man wanted to fire. It seemed it didn't consider accidents or misfires. She punched with a finger still inside the trigger guard and heard his nose crunch against the metal, he staggered away as she ducked under a bullet. It sheared off a piece of the wall right besides her. Too close.

Kicking out she caught Broken Nose and flung him at the rest of the boys, Puma used the diversion to go for someone's leg. Claws raking bloody groves upon his calf, cloth and skin torn apart and turned into strips and strings. Then came their retaliation.

A hail of bullets came at her, Haki painted blade at the ready she parried the ones coming for her breasts and face with unwavering focus, there was simply no escaping the fact that there was not enough muscle in her teats to use Tekkai effectively. Not like she enjoyed being hit or anything, she much preferred being the one doing the hitting. Martina hardened her stomach and legs, her armour of Tekkai making the metal but a light sting on her skin. Hell, she had had cramps far worse than this.

The hail turned into a drizzle, before it became a pitiful pattering that ended shortly after. Puma had taken care of the two that she had dog piled using Broken Nose, and with that there were just three pigs left. Two stared at her, still in the hall, holding their guns and trying to squeeze that one last round that might save their lives while the third had taken one look and gone into the room. Right and Left she would call them, for they were so unremarkable she didn't think she would ever be able to remember them.

A hand caught her leg just as she was about to take a step towards them, held her ankle tight. A dead man's grip on it. She looked down and stared as Broken Nose gave her a toothless, bloody smile, lifting her knife she caught Left's stock between the guard and the blade. The wood was choked between steel and it looked like Left was choking too as he realized his ambush failed and he was close to her. So close in fact that she could have kissed him, given a lover's kiss, but she wasn't that kind of woman, so she butted him in the cheek and heard it break as he stumbled back.

Two more screams from her revolver ended the fight. One round to the chest for Right and another to the liver for the rat that had gone into their room, was more than enough to solve this peacefully.

"Is everything alright here?" Came the shy voice of the inn keeper from all the way down the hall. Martina cleaned her weapons on the back of one of the fallen and smiled sweetly at him.

"Everything's fine, just some people that were a little lost," the pudgy man blinked at her and looked at the bodies around.

"I see. So they were lost, good that you could help them," she almost laughed out loud. Almost fell over her ass at the man's attitude, there was blood and pain everywhere you looked and he thought it good? How wicked! She loved it!

"Yes, they are also glad I helped them,"

[O.o]

"What is this, Mar?" slowly drawled out her brother.

"Missing children. Found them outside our room," she answered while using the tip of her boot to prod Left's rib.

"Why were they there?" He was frowning now, his great wall of a forehead creasing.

"For the Mondo Family. Remember the guys you pummelled into each other? Well, those guys sent these guys or at least one of them did. Right?"

"Yes! Yes! It was Tero who sent us! He is one of the Young Boss' men, he said to bring the two that disrespected Mr. Coltello," Broken Nose answered in a hurry, his words falling atop each other in the rush. Should she still call him that? She had already straightened his nose, even sewed the cut in his lip, so his nose wasn't broken anymore. She shrugged and dismissed it, _details,_ she thought, _those only matter when talking about the big guys._

"So it wasn't this Young Boss that sent you, but one of his men?" Nicolas asked slowly and she sighed, the story wasn't all that convoluted. It was all the same, small men trying to piece their pride together using the means of those they worked under.

"Yes," Broken Nose answered, almost a whisper as he eyed all the knives around her brother and perhaps thinking what they were all for. And how easy it was for a mind in a dark place to make monsters out of every shadow.

"Just so we are clear, I am going out for them," she stated.

"What? No, you are not. We are taking our things and leaving this place, we aren't going to fight the mobs,"

"Nicolas, they came for me. Tried to take me while I was resting, you think I am going to let something like this pass?"

"We can walk away from all this, just take the ropes and that's it. No need to hurt anyone," he added while looking at the seven bruised bodies on their floor. _No need to hurt more._

"They won't let up, they will seek us out at every other Island we go. Like a disease we need to stab it at its roots," her voice was on edge. There was no way she was leaving this place, there were unresolved matters and these matters were the kind that came to bite you once you started running from them.

"You don't know that! You are a Doctor not a Mafia Boss, so stop spouting things you saw in movies,"

"They will come," he squinted at her right at the edge of his patience, "they will come to my house the day my daughter is to be married and ask for justice," she was sure he would have ripped his hair off if he had any, "so I will take justice into my hands tonight and be done with it,"

"Gods give me strength to deal with her," he prayed as she tickled Puma under his chin while the rest of him was sprawled on her lap and bed. She saw it in his eyes, he wouldn't stop her but he also wouldn't let her go alone, and she let a triumphant little grin slip. Nothing made her happier than that sense of comfort that sat right in her heart when she knew she had her brother's support.

The Caracal watched it all play in front of him, his Mistress acting aloof and uninterested, her kin acting unwilling. All this to say _Hunt!_


	20. Chapter 19

_**Writer: I have bad news people, Oda hasn't given me the rights for One Piece so it's still his and I can't make a living of writing this. So bloody sad.**_

* * *

She wore her bests for the night, from her steel tipped boots to the wine-red long coat that had belonged to Itse and she had oh so stealthily appropriated. Hair combed and still loose and wild as a lion's mane tucked away in the back of her shirt, save for two long locks that bared her face in a frame of dirty gold that shined with the stray pins of light. This would be the best time to have her photo taken, she looked enrapturing with the face of courage and the poise of victory. She had nailed the walk, and Puma wasn't too far off with his chest puffed up and strutting right besides her with claws out and clicking against the stones.

They walked as they counted the blocks so that they wouldn't miss the house of the Mondos, according to the men she had shot and broken there was a barrack of sorts they used twelve blocks past the butcher's shop. And as they were nearing the tenth she could already see their colours, the building sat hunched on a corner with slanted roof almost falling over and covering half the windows of the first floor all painted red and black and yellow. A wild Jackson Pollock spew out of it as the people milled inside it, talked, laughed, and drunk, their nature tainting and coating the whole place.

A dry spell hit her mouth as anticipation mixed with excitement as they edged closer, twisted the cap of her cute, little flask.

"Maybe we should skip town," said Nicolas, sighing long and hard and tiredly.

"No, no, no. We can't," she snapped as she turned on her heels, walking backwards and looking at him, "You can't just career through life while leaving mistakes and insults unanswered,"

A silence as they walked and reached a corner from where they could see all the half-covered windows.

"What about when you dropped someone's motorcycle taking a photo? That was a mistake, wasn't it?"

"Well… you know-" Martina thought. "That's just my point! We can't keep on doing it, you know what they say: New World, New Me,"

"I see, so what about this? We go in, we speak and make things clear and we leave?"

"How about no. When people try to kidnap you, you don't go up to their boss and ask them why they did that. Now do you?"

"I wouldn't know, no one has ever tried to kidnap me,"

"They would need a freighter to kidnap you, Nicolas. And since I am the only one with experience on the matter, let me tell you what we will do, yes?"

"When you say that I get this bad feeling about all this, like there are going to be wrecks all around," He jerked his head left and right as if to make a point.

"And what would you call the state you left those two yesterday?" She countered, trying to show him a little bit of his hypocrisy. How everything was right when he did it but wrong when she planned it.

"I would call that-" he lapsed into silence, trying to find a word that might stretch the truth,"-incapacitated,"

"They looked like a wreck. Once they were unable to tell which limb was whose, you would call them a wreck, no?"

His lip lifted as she shoved the ugly truth in his face, and then began to walk again when he realized that he just couldn't beat her when it came to words. Martina smiled at that. One had to know what battles to choose, and Nicolas simply sucked at that, he threw himself at every chance he had to disagree with her. No matter if he was in the wrong, the insufferable man just never learnt.

She strode forward, it wouldn't do for the Captain to be left behind, walking right in front of her brother as he sulked and sighed. Such a downer, it was a festive night, it was their very first raid and he was sad about not getting to parley and know the enemy. This wasn't the time for speeches and lies and cloaks, that time was before trying to kidnap her, now was the time for retribution and steel. Her heart was almost skipping out of her heart as she reached the entrance, a cocktail of hot fire in her chest blurred her mind as she sprang up the steps, raised one boot, kicked the front door splintering from its hinges and strode inside, the red tails of her coat flapping after.

Then she blinked. Slowly took in the place choked in people, the smell of smoke and sweat, of spilled drinks and sprayed vomit, of desperation and wasted chances. And realized how very out-numbered they truly were when you took away the one guy that was flattened by the door.

 _It would seem,_ she thought as her hands came to her weapons, _that its bad to mix alcohol and fights._ And then smoke and steel claimed their place that night.

[O.o]

Orillas watched the boy he thought of as a son pace in his office. Well, office was too kind a word, it was a small room cleared for him to use to discuss business or deal with it, a token really, just a piece of something for being an officer of the family. Or at least one of its oldest members, he didn't think there were many that could say had stayed as long as him, maybe Bires, he thought before remembering that Bires had died two years before. A snapped rope brought a pulley on his head fast as a whip and all that he was became jam on the deck. He sighed long as grief, the thing about becoming old was remembering everyone that had left.

"You will wear down you soles, Coltello. I don't want you to spend another monthly wage on shoes," he spoke trying to bring the boy out of his brooding, he was taut as that rope that killed Bires and he hoped he could pulled some of that strain before he snapped.

"It isn't funny, uncle," he replied while chewing on a finger that was about to turn into bone if he kept at it, "Father is about to ship me away for last night. Fuck,"

"You did make a mistake," Orillas thought about what Diena had told him and tried to iron out the scowl that formed against his will. No one had taught him that, not even close, "almost went against the family's rules and Lotta has to be fair when it comes down to it,"

"I know. I know. I know what I did, and I can't regret it enough," he bit his finger and drew blood this time, "Tero got his arm broken because of a stupidity of mine. For a fucking tantrum he got hurt,"

Orillas wasn't happy with that answer, tried to put some iron in his voice, a barb in his mouth, but he gave out at the last moment. He had watched him grow and make trouble, watched him go through scraps and change the wooden sword for the gun, watched him change that innocent smile for a sneer. And in the end the words died in his chest.

"You should apologize to your father. Find these people and talk to them too, make things right before its too late,"

"I don't think I can, he doesn't want to see me. Much less hear what I have to say now,"

"Oh, boy don't be silly. Lotta loves you to a fault, he has always said how you are so much smarter than him, that he is proud of you,"

"He never said that to me, never even said a thing that wasn't a complaint," Coltello sunk into his chair, depressed and rejected.

"But he is proud of you, just thinks you have things you need to learn,"

"Things? I have learnt everything for the family, there's been no raid I have failed in. No mission he sent me in I have twisted,"

"Do you know why he sent you to these places?" The old man asked, hoping to show at least a piece of what the boy had to learn.

"Made it clear every time he sent me, Get this, Talk to that person, Take that. Always an order somewhere,"

Orillas watched him bite and bite until he winced at it and he smacked his hand out of his mouth, the boy looked like a calf stuck to a pacifier, "It hurts me watch you do that-" he fished into his pocket and pulled a marble of hard candy, "Eat this. Don't talk, just listen and eat and relax if you can,"

Coltello took it in his hand and gave him a half smile, "Ha, a King Can, didn't think they still made this. Where did you buy it?"

"Just found it in my pocket, now listen to me. Your father thinks you are smart, a genius if he could say it, but you put all that brain into war, into raids," the boy nodded at him, "that's a waste for everyone. For the Family most of all,"

"But-" he stopped him with one raised hand.

"Eat. Listen." He stated and nodded to himself when he saw no more talk coming from Coltello, "You are using half your head here, okay? We send you to talk to someone and you threaten them, collect something and you steal it. You are making a bloody name for us when you should be securing yourself a name, make it a brand. Something with a price and a guarantee tied to it,"

"Your Father thinks if he sends you to enough islands you might get that, Diena thinks if we send you on your own you might get it beat into your head. I try to make it clear now that everything failed,"

Coltello bit down on the candy, impatient, arrogance had made its way to his heart now and he didn't take to lectures. "I will see what I can do to make yesterday right, uncle,"

Orillas combed the patch of beard that was supposed to cover his cheek, traced the scar all the way to his ear. How tiring it was to spell things out for others and watch them trounce the opposite way, how tiring it was to try to do the right thing in a bad world.

The sound of a door slamming, a shout, and a gun scream reached him all at once. They had just changed that door, had just paid for it that morning and they would have to do so again. _It was so very tiring,_ he thought as he got up his chair and shouted for someone to call Diena, he wore the battered brass knuckles and wondered just how long they had spent in his hands.

Too long.

[O.o]

Martina kicked a table and made it spin in the air as a drizzle of bullets ripped it to splinters and old nails. She caught someone by the neck and shot him twice in the gut, making them drop hard on the floor, her [Critical Eye] Skill registering a pair of cracked ribs in him together with some lung rot. A lovely combination.

She ducked under an airborne thug and watched him pile on top of another to her right, she took aim and shot one in the head, the slug tickling Nicolas' nose and making him sniff. It was a game, a game to see who exploded first because of each other's blows coming so close and she was in the lead until her brother threw a bowl that broke on someone's shoulder and showered her in ceramic splinters. She hissed as the pieces dug into her mane and were lost to the world, it would take her hours to pick everything off her hair.

Raising her revolver once again she put the iron of her sight on another target when a blur caught her attention, she froze in place, Tekkai toughening her muscles and rooting her in place. It should have been enough, it should have been all she needed to stop a barrelling cannon ball. Yet, it wasn't. Her feet left two trenches along the tiles before they were clean in the air, her chest clamped in a hug of iron and muscle.

Nicolas screamed high and horrible as Martina watched everything turn into a blur, as she felt her bones groan and grind against her flesh as she was smacked against a wall at full tilt. Bricks and mortar crumbled as the bonds came undone by the force of her assailant and how solid she was. Her armour had left her stiff as a statue, one arm stuck close to her side and the other still outstretched holding her gun.

She had missed the bastard, missed him completely until it was too late. He had charged her in silence, his mind a pool of nothing but rust coloured exhaustion and not a speck of the violent red or gloom black that she had gotten used to in her Observation Haki. Her irritation at herself mounted the anger of her pain and she released the Tekkai on her forearms, with her wrist now mobile she twisted her hand and pulled the trigger.

The iron slugs clapped against the man's back twice before her drum was empty, and yet the bastard had the gall to ram her against the corner of a house before body slamming her against the cobble stone. She tucked herself neat and tight, shoulder bruised by the fall but her head was in mint condition and that was what mattered. Her Soru brought her half a block away from her enemy, a man old as dust and that in all his years had never stopped growing, with hair silver as coins that reached his shoulders and a beard that tickled his chest. He looked an old Viking stuffed in a suit.

"You are sneaky, for an old man," She hissed at him, her gun's drum slapping to one side with one twist of her wrist.

"You are tough, for a woman," He answered back as he squared his shoulders and brought his ham like fists up in a boxer's stance, feet wide apart. And she wondered what kind of idiot did he take her for to think she would close the gap, feeling at her face she touched upon a smile and a spot of dust. Slotting one cartridge at a time she began to hum, eyeing the old man as he took one step and dug his soles in the cracked stones. One firm step at a time, one solid second at a time, he looked like a wall inching forward and she had just the right thing to bring it down.

One heel clicking against the ground, her chest jerking forward and head snapping, fingers working around the explosive rounds and giving the drum a spin for flare as the lyrics exploded from her.

 _See me ride out of the sunset, On your color TV screen_

The old man kept one eye to peek over his fists, adorned in brass and scarred as a chopping block. A fighter then, an old hand at their job. Her smile grew as the beat grew hot.

 _Ain't got no gun, Ain't got no knife_

She showed her hands and the heavy instruments in them. The irony.

 _Don't you start no fight,_

Almost there, the gap was but a ten steps walk. They were so close now that a run would make them meet head on, her breath quickened at the thought of being tackled again but the excitement of a slug fest made her burn with anticipation.

 _ **Cause I'm T.N.T.**_

She screamed at the sky, chest rumbling, windows clinking and rattling as her voice exploded like artillery. Her gun was brought to eye level and she let it rip, her thumb bringing the hammer back for a second before she squeezed the trigger with a mad smile. The first slug was a firefly zipping in the night that bloomed with a shockwave and a shower of pebbles. She didn't stop, the boom of her explosives goading her to sing ever louder, ever higher.

 _ **Watch me explode!**_

Her song finished, her gun squeezed dry, and the streets mauled by force and fire she stood there a little winded by her performance. But she was beyond herself with the results, the cloud of dust hadn't settled yet and neither had the excitement and battle joy. Because he still stood. That old pool of patient rust stood unscathed where her bombardment had ripped the place to pieces, and when the curtain to their first round started to fall, he moved.

Quick as a snake he crossed the gap and swung one bastard of a fist at her head, Martina fell backwards without moving her feet, her whole upper body horizontal and hinged on her knees. She came back up and whipped him across the face with the blunt stud in her knife's pommel. His neck didn't even move when she caught his chin with a blow that could crack stones. Tough bastard that he was he managed to knee her in the stomach as she was hitting him, her leg kicked his chest and used it to jump back.

"Nice blow," said Martina trying to get her muscles to unclench and let her breath a little more easily.

"Same to you, kid," he said while rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, "What's your name? I don't think someone this strong should stay nameless," the brass around his hands moved up as he got comfortable.

"The name is Doctor Esquirla Ana Martina, Captain of this two-man crew. A pleasure," She flapped back the tail of her coat as she holstered her gun and gave him a bow. She knew manners, just didn't think everyone deserved them.

"I am Orillas, just Orillas," He answered.

"Now that's just insulting, you are more than just Orillas. Surely you have a title or something, I can't think someone this strong should be nameless," She shot back as her eyes roved over his body, her Skill showing not a single recent wound. No trauma, no lacerations, no nothing apart from a tattered dress shirt. That meant one thing, and one thing only.

"Surely a Devil Fruit User can't be _just_ Orillas,"

The old man looked at her and let a half smile appear. "No name is freely given, only right I say mine then," He stood up and squared his chest and pulled his chin up, suddenly he didn't look half as tired or half as old. "I am Orillas. _The Stalwart,"_

Her lips quirked upwards as she brandished both her knives, hands held outstretched and armed as if to hug him and stab him in the back.

"This will be a fine fight then!" Martina screamed at him, words that shook the sleeping city.

"As fine a fight as any!" He bellowed back.

And there it was, the rust started to scab and fall, crumble and flake, as something older took its place. The climbing thrill and the towering ferocity burst out of him like waves breaking a dam and they threatened to drown her.

Martina threw herself at him, a comet with a red tail, she sunk under a cross and struck his shoulder with a downwards cut with all her strength, all her excitement, all her training.

But instead of slicing flesh and grinding bone the bitter edge of her knife slid clean through the first layer of skin and left a red line. A cut as shallow as a stranger's compliment. His answer was a blow that was caught by her blade, backed by her Tekkai he still managed to move her, her steel tipped boots raking the ground. She stabbed at him from below, trying to catch his ribs and was blocked by an arm that was tight against his side.

Failed the attack she jumped back, but halfway there she noticed her foot wouldn't budge, stuck under the great weight of the old man's own sole she struggled to free herself as he rained blows upon her. She shrugged a cuff to her forehead and drove the point of her knife into his leg, blocked a hook to her ribs and winced as she was forced to exchange blows. Too late her Observation picked the straight aimed at her head, too little to be done when her foot was caught, twisting her neck she avoided breaking her cheekbone but traded flesh instead.

A gash that opened along her face, from the tip of her mouth to just below her eye everything was red. Anger mounted, battle joy driven, and pain fueled Haki coated her knife, the steel lost in the dark she cocked her fist and punched with a guard of black. Confident in his iron hide the old man didn't move, he returned fire at the same time thinking it a fair trade until his jaw was jarred aside. His neck twisting to follow the force as his fist missed its target and he was knocked aside.

How long had it been? He thought. How long since he had been uprooted so violently, so finally from his place. His legs shot out from him as he threw himself aside to avoid the blades that sunk into the stone, he looked sadly at her smiling face and swallowed a sigh. If only he was twenty years younger. If only he was in his prime what a fight this would be, but at fifty years old his knees were trembling from one punch through his armour. Pitiful.

How regretful it was to grow old.

She cut and diced, her Armament now strong enough to cut whatever Devil's power he possessed and still the old man made her fight for every mark she left. He fought unlike anyone, not like Itse who toyed with them and crushed them through foresight. Not like Nicolas that kept his blows straight and true every time, unchanging no matter how much she dodged and retaliated. No. He fought with tricks, with feints and weaves of his arms, trying to gouge her eyes or break her wrists and elbows, aiming for her toes and ankles.

He was traitorous like a scorpion and with half the mercy, kept her sharp at all times and she loved it. They exchanged trickery like pleasantries, she would aim for the space between his ribs, at the bundles of nerves in the legs and for the balls. And he would answer with a punch to the tits, a kick at her ankles and a headbutt to her shoulder.

It was a bloody dance. A red ball! She bit down her lip as she fought down the urge to keep going, to keep learning, and stealing his tricks. There had to be a winner, there were things to be done tonight and the old man was already breathing hard.

She would give him a proper end, with everything she had.

Retreating she prepared, she stood at a distance with both fighting knives in an overhand grip.

"This is the end," She remarked sadly.

"Yes, to be true I surprised myself by lasting this long," He answered between breaths. "Now show me, show me what you were holding back,"

She nodded and began jumping in place, warming up her legs for the last part of their dance.

"Brujeria:" she chanted, and her voice struck the buildings and echoed down the street.

She kicked out once, then twice, dust began to cloud the ground and hide her feet and where there was one appeared two then three.

"Los Fantasmas," the three of them finished together, three apparitions that mimicked each other.

"Now Orillas, tell us, which one is the real one. Which of this three will stab you?" they smiled at him, a genial gesture.

"No need to keep me in suspense like this, lass. Let's do this," He charged as a striker upon its prey, swung one fist through the right most of the ghosts and kept going until it reached the last. All of them disappeared and a burning pain blossomed in his leg and arm, and when he looked down, peeking from behind him Martina was holding both blades that were buried to the hilt in his flesh.

"The answer was the fourth one," She finished and pulled the steel free, flourished them in the air and flicked the blood away as they went into the sheathes.

"Sneaky little thing," He spoke as he held one hand over his wound, already he was feeling faint. Too much exercise on this old thing. "Would you do me a favour? From the victor to its victim?" Didn't matter how much he enjoyed himself, he still had a job to do.

"Sure thing. If you answer me a question," He wasted as much time as he could before he nodded, had to buy as much time as possible. That was his job, either win or use as much time before you loose.

"Would you join my crew, Orillas _The Stalwart_?" Eyes open wide, mouth hanging open he stared at her and then he laughed. He belched all the humour in his dying body as she waited.

"Fifteen years ago my answer would have been an undisputed yes, but now even if I wasn't half dead my answer would still be no. I may be a gangster, a ruinous man, but my loyalty still holds," Her answer was unlike anything he could have thought of, she clapped, she laughed, she hooted as she shouted.

"That was incredible, an incredible speech. And it just makes me want you even more! Come on, join my crew, I know how to get you back to your prime, to make you a young bull again. So what do you say?" Eyes sparkling as if she had seen a toy, a naïve look on her face that was jarring against the memory of the determined killer she had been a second ago.

"Still no. Will you listen to my request now? Before I croak if you wouldn't mind?" She snorted at his words, and he could already feel his breathing coming lighter, blood loss was setting in.

"You aren't dying old man, what kind of Doctor would I be if I just let you die," With thread and needle and a mad glint in her eye she threw herself at him. Cuts and gouges and scraps disappear as they were sewed together, bleeding was staunched as she took a flask from her hip gave it a taste and grabbed another with salve. She gave the little bottle a few more tastes as she worked on him. Both hands on him while she tipped it up with just her lips.

"After seven days you should be able to get someone to pull the stitches, unless you want to do it yourself," Giving it a final shake she threw the glass against a wall and watched it shatter as she spoke.

"Will you still listen to my request even if I am not dying?" He had to try it at least, might save a life, might save two. Might make things right for this crook.

"Depends, I only listen to what my family has to say. But I might as well consider your word, if for the nice time we spent,"

Orillas dug his hand into his one remaining pocket and pulled from inside a wrapper of metal green, a little marble that was even smaller in his fingers. A candy, a plain and simple ball of sugar. Martina watched with interest as he offered it to her, hand outstretched, she thought of poison and trickery, of a last gamble, yet she reached for it. Her head was screaming but the rest of her was at ease, something older than her Observation told her there was no danger.

"A candy?"

"Yes, I would like for you to stay with me for as long as that candy lasts," The wound on her cheek creased as her lips were pushed back in a wide arc.

"And if I bite down on it? It wouldn't last long that way,"

"If you do then that will be it, I guess,"

Crumpling the wrapper in one hand she put it in her pocket and ate the hard candy, rolled it from one side to the other.

"Its minty," She said after careful consideration, "I hate mint. Don't you have coke flavour?" He hacked a weak laugh.

"I will consider buying a bigger variety after this,"

"Do try, this tastes terrible,"

Orillas watched her eat, trying to put the words together to ask. Piecing over the details and questions he had and wanted answered, but in the end his mouth moved faster than his head. Might have been the little blood he had doing tricks or maybe the fatigue had reached him.

"What do you want with the Mondo Family?" He said directly, no roundabouts or anything.

"To get even, of course," She frowned and considered her words again, scratched her chin and spoke again, "To cash a debt actually. Yes, to take our due,"

"What kind of debt are you talking about?"

"The kind with the highest interests, a debt of honour! Your boys tried to kidnap me, tried to take a young lady from her room with the sun still out," Her hand over her face she looked affronted, insulted.

Suddenly, Orillas felt so tired. So very tired. Kidnapping? Fifteen years he had spent setting boundaries, setting guides of conduct for his men and for all he was just an officer they applied to the Family as a whole. Fifteen years that someone had decided to spit on, it seemed.

"If I brought you whoever it was, bound and gagged, would you two stop?"

"No," The Doctor answered, "We wouldn't. It was an insult that we received, and we need to make sure there is no repeat. A message must be sent, to everyone," Spoken like a true underworld dog, Martina fought to keep a straight face through the giddiness building up in her chest. The man deserved respect, it was a serious moment for him and she had to play her part in this theatre.

"I guess I was the same when I was your age, only time can make a person see the value of turning a fist into an open hand. You finished your candy already, my wish is over, just try not to bully them too much, they are my family after all," The old man reclined his head against the rubble and let go a breath.

"I wouldn't call it bullying, this is simply overwhelming retaliation," _I need a hat,_ she thought, _the man deserved a little tip of acknowledgment, would have nailed it right there._

Martina didn't get further than a block before she was jumped from an alleyway, an ugly thing ran at her and crept up until it managed to perch on her shoulder. Rumbling loudly.

"And where have _you_ been?" She questioned her tomcat.

 _Fight. Not Hunt. Not mine._ He purred lazily.

"Not your fight? Then I guess when Nico attacks you it ain't my fight either, right?"

 _Not fight either. Game._

"Then you are going to be playing that game alone since you can't fight with me,"

 _No! Game of three._ Puma defended, trying to come out innocent after abandoning her. The damn thing was so much like her that it was dangerous.

"Make it of two or start fighting, your choice," Was her final answer and the cat began mewling pitifully until she gave it a warning glance and it huffed and rested his head on her shoulder.

And as she walked down the street plagued by shadows her Observation called for her attention, the fiery breeze called for her. Nicolas was distressed, she could feel it now that her battle joy was over and her anger was gone, she could feel him calling and reaching out for her. She sighed as she turned towards his direction, a smile that stung her hurt cheek bloomed in her face, the needy bastard was waiting for her.

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 _ **Reviews and PM are what I need to improve this novel, and they also help to inspire me so they are appreciated.**_


	21. Chapter 20

A short chapter.

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Nicolas felt his face grow cold and his mouth hang open as he watched from the side, uselessly, as his sister was rammed by a blot of black and white. As she was forced against a wall and through it, felt the blow as if it had been him in her place. His hand losing its grip and letting go of a man's face as he stood still, his head just catching up to what he had to do, but so did they. And like a pack of hyenas they came, like piranhas on a cow bleeding in the water they began to take bites off him.

"One less! Take him down!" Someone at the back screamed and they rushed him as he tried to make way, he had to go, had to protect her! Nicolas knew this situation was to his disadvantage, he was a bruiser, a tank, meant to control crowds and herd them with his bulk. His fist did nothing more than make some dumber than they were or make their eyes lose focus for a couple seconds, and usually that was enough, enough for Martina to hammer them with bullets. But not now. She wasn't here and the fact he was so badly outnumbered was concerning.

His arms flailed around as he backhanded and punched and gripped and smashed heads. People had their teeth blown off, their faces cut when they caught a knuckle, and their noses broke as they came near him, but this was part of life for them. This was just another day for them, and it couldn't be considered over without a scrap or five. Some had a full mouth of wood and silver after all, noses so bent and misshapen that they were stumps and skin so scarred it was an armour of hardened flesh.

And so, without fear of pain they swarmed him. They pushed at his chest and gut, clung to his arm in a vain effort of stopping him from braining the others and tried to tackle him to the ground. But he lifted them all, uprooted their barricades and stomped on the bodies of those that fell below this press of mad men. As he went, he bellowed, veins popped in his neck and temple as they tried to stop him. He had a mission!

"Move!" He screamed in their faces, a terrible sound joined by the sight of a mouth big as a gutter that made those closest to this scene lose their valour. But they were there simply there to delay him, to buy time and no more as the truly strong, the family's little giants, gathered behind this beast of a man.

But Nicolas was so focused in trampling the opposition that he didn't realize it, didn't notice the abrasions in his arms, the tightness in his abdomen nor the fact that he was slowing down. He simply pushed forwards, ever forward. Ignoring them until he reached down to pick a man by the neck and his hand failed to grasp him, stopped short by a long margin. The man smirked in triumph for a second before Nicolas heaved with effort and caught him by the head, the ropes that hung from his arm snapped back and so did the poor lad caught in his grip.

"He is fixed!" They celebrated as the multitude holding him back groaned with effort, some were red in the face just trying to make him stay in place.

"Someone get a rope ´round his legs. We need him on the floor," Another shouted over the masses as Nicolas reflexively tightened his fingers around the man's head as he tried to fight their binds, his screams and thrashing limbs had a sobering effect on everyone. No one wanted to get near him, blades slid off his skin like needles against iron and one wrong move would get your head crushed. That part had never been in anyone's life till now, your skull grasped by a hold of stone before being used as a shield in the press or as a hammer to nail the others. It wasn´t just pain there, it was desperation as your face was pressed flat against a sheet of callus and flesh. And just like a sickness fear was easily contagious, kept them in place as he fought.

He was getting desperate, his head a mess of worry, Martina was out there fighting some unknown on her own. And there was nothing he could do here bound to this place, why couldn't they let him go! He thought with anger. Pushed his arm forward trying to leverage some of them, ten men grit their teeth as their feet slid on the floor and when his strength was gone they retreated as one. The sudden pull took away his balance, his right foot went back more than expected and his knee crushed against the ground.

The thirty men on the ropes pulled again, all intent in pressing their advantage and bringing him down once and for all. They all wanted to finish this madness. But as it was, they couldn't move him, no matter which way they tried to bring him he wouldn't budge as his body turned into a statue the moment he fell. It was like trying to pull a keeled frigate upright, an impossible task.

This stalemate lasted until one of them, tired and bruised at the palms from rope burns, let go and picked up the maul at his hips. He came quiet as a mouse from behind, working the handle of his weapon until one hand was choking the head and the other was by the tip, and just like a miner he brought the hammer up and behind his back and swung it back down nice and hard. The spiked, metal head hit him squarely in the crown, a blow so perfect it could have killed any kind of cattle right where it stood. A blow he had used to kill sharks and a whale that had beached some years ago, and every time it was the sound of a wet plank snapping, a little splatter in the face, and all problems turned cold and white.

Except this time.

Not this time, not by a large margin. When the steel met the head, it gave a dull bonk, like a knuckle rapped against a wall, and that bald piece of a rock simply bobbed a little in response. Suddenly everyone went quiet, the man with the hammer felt his mouth dry in a second and gripped his weapon ever so tightly. His hands white upon it. And then it turned red, veins like strings popped on his temples and one eye like a needle stared at him from under a clean slab of a forehead. He tried to swallow as their captive rose and opened that great hole of a mouth and, to everyone's dismay, bit down on the ropes around his shoulder. With a great pull of his neck he ripped it to strings and got one arm free, spat a knot of frayed cords and pulled a neat little knife off his belt and set to cut every restraint upon him.

They all stared as Nicolas freed himself, feet rooted in the ground as his [Veteran's Aura] was released in a strong, steady flow. Unlike the times he had used it to spar, this time he exerted no control over it, it spread everywhere like winter and took hold of all in its chilling grasp. He could feel his head pounding as he cut through the ropes that were thick as fingers and braided, but at least there were no more attacks and no more opposition. That let him have a moment to reign himself, to put his emotions under control if even by a smidgen.

And when he was free he turned around, his Aura set on drowning the man that had brained him with a hammer so similar to a butcher's maul and bent over to look at him in the eye, put his hands on his shoulders and spoke low and careful. The voice he used on his sister when she stepped over the line, the only sound he could make without cursing and breaking his word with his mom. He couldn't let one of the last strings that tied him with his parents to be cut like that, and so his message was short.

"You hurt me," The hammerman winced and teared up as Nicolas whispered the words right in front of him, like an animal breathing down on his face and having to look at those too sharp and too big a tooth. He felt claws digging into his shoulders, muscle moved painfully out the way and he was pressed down until his knees gave way and he could already feel his life draining. It was all followed by his joints almost being ripped out of their sockets, the air pushed out of his chest and a feeling of lightness only felt when jumping off a high place. When he opened his eyes he watched the chandelier pass by his face and be replaced by the chain and then the rafters and even when his head failed to catch up to the events his body moved with a purpose. His hands latched onto one the beams just by the skin of his fingers, looking down his eyes crossed the animal's and his hands were clenched even harder. He was safe now, he was safe here.

With his face red, he clenched his teeth as he let go of a breath of boiling air, his chest shivering as he held back. His head hurt like all hells, like a nail had been driven in. Looked up at the man holding onto dear life and belched another breath of anger. His sister needed him, there was no time for this.

"Move," he said in a quiet voice that was in the edge of his patience. The people were silent now, looking at him as if he was a monster, keeping their grips tight and hurtful on their weapons but they didn't move to stop him. There was only one man with a chain in his hands and he squawked and let it go when Nicolas felt his eye twitch at the sight of it. As he trounced through the opening the attacker had left, he reeled in his Skill, the smog of his Aura cleansed from the area.

And if he shouldered and tore another piece of the wall as he walked off, well who cared about it.

[O.o]

"We should have stopped him," someone spoke after the icy air left with the man, most everyone looked at him and one showed him the way with his arm as he said.

"He went that way and you are welcomed to try," his tone mocking as he put a hand on his chest, "as for me I am not going near a fucking fishman,"

"That wasn't a fishman, loudmouth. Just another man. A big one just that," a woman nursing a rifle said as she eyed their guy in the ceiling. She estimated they might need a real big ladder to get him down, or two tied together.

"Are you blind or didn't you see how he bit right through that rope?" He quipped and walked up to the mess of cords that looked to have been grated down to straws, "you can tie two ships with this, and they couldn't snap it. He bit it and tore it like my dog through a good cut of meat, that's a fishman or half of one if I ever seen one," there were mutters of agreement here and there, small nods of approval.

"Might be just a hungry man," she answered as the lad's grip faltered and he plummeted down, past her spot in the first floor and no one made to catch him as he crashed against the floor. He groaned and someone gave him a bottle to kill the pain.

She eyed the hole they had all gone through and passed her finger over the gun's sight, she hoped everything could be wrapped nice and tight tonight and quickly too. It was still early enough that she could get a story or two in for her children, maybe even cook something. Her eyes went back to the hole in the bloody wall and sighed, no way those two would go down quickly. Perhaps the big lad, if Miss Diena heard her prayers, but she wouldn't bet a belly on that.

[O.o]

Coltello stalked the alleys as he nursed the words of the man he had come to call uncle, more a father than anything if he was perfectly honest, that he was watching only half the picture. That violence was but half of their business, but then what was the other half? What was left after you took the knuckles and blades from a Family, money perhaps? People would be his answer if he had had a glass too much of wine, if he thought his uncle was feeling particularly sentimental. No chance of that happening, but there were only so many venues he could take his words in, and sometimes the least transited ones were the answer.

The sound of his Den-Den brought him away from that rail of thought and he patted his vest until he found the little snail right next to his pocket watch.

"Purupurupuru~ Purupurupuru…Gacha. Boss Coltello, Sir?" Said the transponder after putting on a pair of small sunglasses and hiding one of its teeth.

"Coltello here. What is it Petro?" He asked tiredly and hoped it wasn't more damned problems, the seas knew he had enough as it was.

"We have a situation at the canteen, Sir. A man and a woman just wrecked the place and Officer Orillas had to intervene and take one out, the other one escaped. Someone is tracking him and Officer Diena was called," Concise and to the point were the words he would use to describe Petro, a man uninterested in small talk and details. So it fell on his shoulders to ask for a more complete report every time, it was exhausting to repeat himself but he would have more luck pulling money from a fish's gut than changing Petro.

"Do me a favour and describe them for me Petro," And as the pieces started to fall upon his ears so did they in his head, a lad that was one and a half men tall with a massive gut and a head shaved clean like a marble with two little eyes sitting on top of a nose like a nail. And together with him was a tall woman fierce as fire with a mane of golden hair, eyes big and shining as a cat's and a button nose that was always creased by a big smile.

They were still here! And were wrecking his people's bar! Coltello felt indignant, irate, that they would come back after what they had done to his men. That breaking a man's arm wouldn't be enough to sate them when their crime was overstepping his boundaries, the fact that they wished to hurt him made his blood boil before his head brought him an idea. The fact that they were attacking them meant they were enemies, and not even his father knows if this was their idea from the begging, if their early meeting was but plain coincidence. Then he would be crime free, it wouldn't have been a kidnapping it would have been investigation of suspicious behaviour. She had been looking at him from the moment he stepped in, had locked onto him in a second. But why? And his mind flashed to the little chest he had appropriated not two week ago from that cargo ship, were they the owners? Were they here to get it back, to get _that_ thing back?

By how much it was worth there was no doubt about their objective, his face took a cold disposition as he put the Den-Den closer so that they wouldn't be heard.

"Petro, listen to me right now and pay more attention than ever," The snail's eye stalks bobbed in a nod and he kept talking, "I want you to go find Merol and ask him about those two, then proceed like in Shin Shine Island. Understood?"

"Yes,"

"And send a message to get the slave home. We might need a hard fist to crack the big guy," And with that he closed the transponder's shell with a smart little click and walked his way home with a satisfied smile on his face.

* * *

Somebody tell me they have read Record of Ragnarok... It has my blood pumping like crazy!


	22. Chapter 21

Nicolas tramped down the night at a brisk pace, every breath of his followed by a plume of silvery smoke and a trail of ash. He was huffing and puffing at a cigar that burned red as blood; biting the tip and chewing and spitting the bits that got in his mouth. If it wasn't clear by his sour face and twitching lip, he was having a bad time right then, having searched for his sister and her attacker and all he had found was ruin.

From the broken wall they had slugged it until a house where they had blasted a corner and you could now peek as if a window- they would have to live with the chill until they fixed it – and from there he found a street cracked and blown up, shards and darts of stone dotting the whole place. All signs of Martina.

He had tried expanding his Observation already, had screwed his eyes shut and tried to find her but he was no good at it. Whatever it was that let others make sense of that cursed, out of body experience it was lacking in him, it never failed to make him sick when he went back to only seeing what was in front of him; as if being crammed into a coffin. But even then, ill as he was, the sourness of worry forced him to move and search like a dog in the night, trying everything he could; from shouting and making the windows clatter to clapping and calling her name like a child lost in the dark.

Spitting the chewed-up butt he dragged a big breath of air and open his hands to begin clapping once more, just as he put his hands far apart, he saw someone walking his way. They were a blot of moving ink in all the gloom, but he saw them all the same; a confident and cadent stride to their walk and as they drew closer, he could see a sway that only the lithe and agile had. Just like Martina, except she would never be this quiet when she had been in a fight, she would be wielding a bottle in one hand and singing in that screeching voice of hers. No, this was someone else, a pity, he would have to keep shouting after they left, otherwise it would be rude to be so loud and be bother.

The both of them kept walking towards each other and for a second it looked like the just might pass by each other when they stopped in front of him, a hand next to them and the other at the small of their back. Wisps of tattered black clinging to them in his Observation and he thought that another fight had found him as he balled his hands and sighed.

"So, you are the one that has been breaking my men down to size," That took out all the doubt he had left, he worked his neck a little as he answered.

"Can we talk this out please?" He might not have doubts but hope was still aplenty in him.

"You didn't talk much with them, did you? Why start now?" An evil whistle went past Nicolas' neck, a breeze picking up only at that point and he felt a chill run down his body.

´ _That felt almost like…´_ he couldn't finish his thought as the place was full of those shrills before he felt himself be pushed along his chest and shoulder, steel bearings pinging as they dropped and bounced against the floor- ' _bullets'_. The only thing that had saved him from being sniped were his instinctual Armament and his [Thick Skin] Skill, otherwise he would have been shot down right there.

After that first flurry neither moved, one not expecting for their attacks to be weathered so easily while the other was simply stunned by the suddenness of it all.

The shock gave way to determination as they both sprang into action, both set on crushing the opposition.

Within a second Nicolas clamped his arms tights against each other and locked them in place with Tekkai, trusting his Armament to protect his legs from whatever slugs that silent gun could throw. He charged and they retreated as their hands went towards their back and another drizzle of steel peppered his defences, this time digging into his skin like a rifle's munition. One hitting him in the thigh and making his muscles clench and shiver at the pain, his jaw was clenched tight as a clamp as another struck the bone sticking out of his wrist like a hammer.

Putting away the pain in his leg he attempted a Soru and only managed three kicks that eat at the distance between them savagely, he could see her now and the only thing his mind registered was the strands of rope like hair that danced behind her after every jump just like smoke trailing her. But just as he tried a second Soru the woman opened her hand, a transparent circle formed around it in which the steel caught the light of the lanterns as they floated around idly - like scum caught in the water's current- and he wasn't given the time to react as they stopped him dead in his tracks.

His back leg almost slipping as all his force was nulled, flesh burning in pockets of hot pain where he was struck and joints complaining as they were pushed against their limit. A satisfied nod came from the woman as that cursed orb appeared once again and blinked out as the projectiles were already deliver, again his arms were punished grinding his bones against the steel, one bullet ricocheting off his shaved head with a sharp sound.

"What is your head made of? No bone should make that noise when struck," She complained idly as her ability encased her feet and sent her off to the side, avoiding Nicolas' punch with ease.

"I drink a lot of milk," A snort was his answer as she blinked right in front of him, so close he could see her skin that was a kind of black to make midnight jealous and eyes so bright the moon might just be in them; but as he tried to reach for her and crush her as painlessly as possible he missed the pellet that went low. Until he _felt_ it, that is.

A cold spread through his belly, ice on his face as he went pale and felt his body lose its strength. He cluttered down in a heap, breath taken away by the foreboding sensation before the pain spread, a single tear escaped his eyes as he watched the woman shake her head.

"Men are the result of such bad designs. Soft bits sagging uselessly down below and no bone to cover them this time," She spoke as she fetched more steel from her pouches and that damned miniature orb spluttered back into existence, bullets hovering once again and ready.

Pulling at the fraying straws of his strength he threw his body towards the side, into an alleyway damp with what could be water but was most likely piss and kitchen waste and all the refuse of the houses near. The street behind him broke and chipped as the stone was shot to pieces, and he pushed himself to stand up, but it was so hard, his limbs felt cold as the sea and his mind was worried beyond belief. He had felt that last blow as if it had carved its way up his stomach like a worm, a sensation that chilled his blood and he still couldn't come to terms with it as the thought clouded his mind.

' _She shot me in the fruits,'_ was the psalm that kept repeating in his head. In his career as a rugbier he had seen similar things thrice and each was a scene of slaughter. Blood drivelling down their legs as they held a slacked face and teary eyes as if they still couldn't believe it had happened. ' _God don't let me be like them'_ he prayed as he looked down. His pants had a tear that was thinner than a fish bone and nothing else.

Promising a good offering for it he felt his courage coming back up and so did his wariness, whoever it was he was fighting she had enough strength to stop his charges and that meant he would need to find a way to close that gap between them or run away if it probed too hard.

"No more hiding now," came the voice from the other side of the alley and out of fear he kicked the heap of trash that was sitting next to him with a fury. Cans and broken tools clinked as they flew, and bags and crates broke to spill the filth they hid and yet none managed to touch her as that cursed orb flickered around her whole body. A field of white that seemed almost sterile, barring passage to everything that got near her and flicking it away.

Digging his fingers in the plaster and bricks of the wall he climbed the house, leaving holes and cracks along it until he swung onto the roof. The awning was blown off by another hail of metal, wood chips and tiles started to rain as he began running on the roof but just as he was about to reach the end of it he saw her jump up until they were face to face.

"Who are you?" He screamed at her as his body fell slack and slithered around her attacks like a paper in the wind.

"A friend of the people you two mauled!" She answered in passing as she fell back to the ground. When Nicolas saw her readying for another jump, he lifted his leg and kicked, the tip of his foot catching the roof and ripping it apart in a wide spray of rubble and dust. Kicking once more he flew through the air towards her, shoulder angled to catch her stomach and arms ready to lock her in place for the fall; he was bent on tackling her to the ground. At least her Devil Fruit would help cushion the blow, he hoped.

But instead when the distance was nil, he felt himself be pushed away, shoved aside with such great force. Just like in the day he had died, the day _they_ had died. And when he thought of that day as his back crashed against a window and felt the claws of broken glass tear his shirt, he also thought about his sister laying bloody and broken, and how futile his attempts had been. He had sworn not to allow such a thing again.

An eerie silence fell across the street as Diena cushioned her fall, she looked at the yawning hole the big boy had made with his back and let her ability expand. Allowed her reigns on it to loosen until she held onto a power barely contained within her hand; She avoided rushing in as a fight in that cramped a place would take her advantage away and it would be no surprise if he had a trick or two in store for her.

Only a fool wouldn't have a couple ropes to escape danger, and she liked to consider herself a danger to most. Best to keep her space and be ready to counter him, avoid that head that was hard like an anchor and aim for the throat and the balls and the knees. _Aim for the pillows_ was her motto and she was going to stick to it.

Just as she managed to cover herself in her power she heard him shout, she did not know if it was out of anger or desperation that he did but the words boomed out of the gloomy opening and drowned the street.

"Scrum Tactics! Hand! Off!" Her neck whipped backwards as her shield hit the wall behind her and he stood above her, one palm outstretched and still trying to crush her against the bricks. For all his mountainous bulk the bastard sure was fast.

With a grunt she shoved his hand aside and let a bullet that was orbiting around her hip shoot forward, he slapped it aside and kept pressing forward; An animal that only knew how to attack. His blows rained down upon her and she could do nothing but hold it up, hands like stone kept trying to crack her, to make give way but she simply refused. She was a pillar of the family, she had people behind her back. She would simply not give. But gods be damned if the bastard could throw a hell of a punch.

She expected him to fall back as his barrage began to slow down, maybe even collapse from exhaustion as she felt her sweat drip down her face, but he simply kept going. Stubborn as a shark he kept at it until she felt her power begin to dwindle, the fatigue in her muscles affecting her field; And just as she was about to do something stupid she saw him lock both hands around her shield's circumference.

"Why won't this thing break!" He growled with his cheek pressed against her defences and trying to squeeze her to death, as if she was just a big fruit. The gall on him.

"This _thing_ is my Devil Fruit! It allows me to apply the strength of every muscle in my body to anything touching it, you think you could crush me with just your arms when every part of me fights you!" She screamed back, anger bubbling up as she fought for her family.

"I have to protect my sister; I can't waste time here!"

"You think you are the only one with something to protect? The only one that has something? Look around, look anywhere in this island and you will find something I want to keep safe!" It might have been the battle anger or his words that angered her, Diena did not know but she wanted him to understand. "But here comes you, pirates, bastards that break everything you touch simply because you can,"

"I am no pirate, I just want my family safe," He tried to refuse, his veins clear in his neck and she laughed at him.

"Such pretty ideals, what in hell do you think you are? A knight? You are but a bastard wrapped in metal foil!" His grip faltered and she took advantage of it, shoved his arm aside and for the first time she took a risk. Compressing her field until it was wrapped tightly around her fist like a glove. Then she punched him.

Nicolas flew backwards. His stomach felt as if it had been hammered in as his back was ground against one then two walls, until he was sitting with his back against the third. A frame fell atop his head and the glass shattered as the people all screamed around him, a man shielding his wife and daughter. A knife in hand and pointed at him and a look of murder in his eyes.

He stared at the naked blade, its teeth and the rust that had begun eating it at the handle and a question floated in his mind. Spoken in an old woman's voice that he had come to know as another part of his small family, ' _battles may have no winners, but they certainly have losers,_ '. His hand fell upon the waiting metal at his hips, a handle that shared its iron with the blade and the guard; ' _This is all for the family,'_ he thought with dread and determination as he left what bills he had on him on the table next to the anxious father.

His steps were heavier as he walked back to the fight, as if he was trying to drag the meeting for as long as possible, stretch that time forever. But he had to do it, had to fight with steel in hand or risk everything – and as Martina would have said ' _Nicolas is no gambler'_ she would have said more but that was the only important part- so here he was, about to walk the fine edge between regretting his inaction or regretting his actions.

When he went through the last wall, the woman with skin of night greeted him with a snort and sharp words.

"It must be easy to play guardian when you think you are invulnerable," She held needles in her hands now and a determination in her eyes to mirror his, "Let me show you just how wrong you are,"

He nodded and drew his sword; the blade came out singing a sharp melody as he slowly led its point towards her. There was no going back now. His [Aura of the Veteran] swept the area as he released it and her shoulders rocked slightly at the pressure. Pressing the advantage, he swung a great overhead and she twitched away, his sword missing her by a hand and opening a wound in the ground, earth and stone showering up.

Not letting up he kept cutting, each aimed at an arm or a leg that strayed near him and yet she kept holding those needles as if it wasn't time yet. That worried him to no end, when would they come? From which distance? But most importantly where, he was afraid he would kill her if she put a needle through his fruits.

Suddenly she missed a step, a loose stone twisting her ankle and his blade bit into her thigh before he could pull it back. It bit into the flesh and was spitting blood as she retreated, before he knew it, he had spoken.

"Are you alright?" A dumb question by any measure but it was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

"Are you daft?" She screeched and lunged forward; he felt a bullet coming and parried, felt the needle dig into his side and tried to crack her with the guard of his sword but she flickered away.

Following her trace with Observation he slashed once again and cut at her arms, that shield of hers sputtering as his Armament fought it once again before it broke like glass. She brought both her arms up and he dropped his Haki to avoid cutting her in half. His heart hurt as he watched her rise from the heap he had thrown her into, arms and leg bloody, sweat streaked across her face and grime clinging to it. He didn't have it in him to keep on.

"You stand defeated," His sword back in its sheathe he grabbed her shoulders as she resisted weakly, lifted her legs off the ground and laid her on the street. She looked at him with tired hate, if she could he had no doubt she would try to kill her.

Not knowing what to do now he sat next to her, not sure if he should leave or take her to a medic. He pulled at a pouch with a frame of steel to protect what was inside and opened it, and out he took a slice of crumbling cake. It was a big chunk of pound cake he held in his hand and he began to eat it one neat pinch at a time, when he was done with it he breathe a sigh of relief and remembered his company. He pulled another slice.

"I am no doctor but eating something after exercising helps with fatigue," He said and tried to put the slice in her hand but she closed it and refused to accept it, finally he left it on her stomach.

"I hate you," She intoned slowly, as if afraid the meaning of her words would be lost in him if she spoke too quickly. The words made him uncomfortable, made him scratch his cheek looking for an answer and let the silence between them stretch.

Finally, they both heard the sound of clapping in the empty street, it was hurried like the beat of a hummingbird's wing. A fast and annoying noise like a snare drum followed by hoots and cheers from atop a building. Done with her shtick Nicolas watched as she flipped forward and landed next to him, Puma stepping on his shoulder before bounding towards her in a single motion.

With her by his side Nicolas felt a surge of emotions that filled his chest, relief and annoyance mixed in great quantities until they marched out his mouth.

"Thank the gods you are okay,"

"Thought I would be done in? In our first island? Perish the thought," He felt his companion stir next to her as she tried to sit up to look at Martina.

"Where is Orillas?" She asked, her voice almost broken and his sister had that mischievous smile she got when she was up to no good.

"Dealt with, dear. Otherwise it would be him here and not me, right?" And with those notes Nicolas' opponent fell unconscious, her body sagging against him and he guided her so as not to hit herself against the ground.

"She got you bleeding, eh?" She asked while squinting at the still dribbling wound at his side.

"Yes, she did. Put a needle into me with her Devil Fruit, she could put all the strength of her body in a bubble and apply it against anything," He answered with a note of newly found respect, "it was similar to Law's Fruit in that aspect,"

"I know, I have been watching you two since you got thrown through a couple buildings," She replied calmly while eyeing the wound.

"You were watching?" His voice raised as his annoyance reared its head, "and you didn't help me?" She managed to look affronted at that, head cocked back and a hand on her chest.

"I am no kill stealer, Nicolas. I have manners,"

"What kind of manners are those?"

"Gaming manners, of course," Massaging his temples he let out a mournful sigh and winced as he stretched the wound by getting up.

"Mind sewing this for me?"

"We talked about this, remember?" He hated doing as she asked but he was simply too tired to argue about it.

"Can you stitch me up. Captain?" She gave him her widest smile as she started to pull a metal case with needle and thread.

"Its [Captain] Martina actually, but I will let you off since you are my First Mate. Who knows maybe you will even earn the Class now that you accept me as such," She kept speaking about nonsense as she worked on his side and then kept plotting their next steps as she put her hands on the woman he had cut.

And he gave her a nod and a thank you in his mind for the lesson taught and an apology for the pain. He hoped his pound cake would clear his debt to her.


	23. Chapter 23

Scritch, Scratch. Scritch, Scratch. That was the nervous tune they walked to, the sound of nails against cloth and stitches sometimes followed by a hiss of pain and a grumble. Depending if he hit a soft bit or not. Martina turned to walk backwards and look at her brother, his squinting eyes and his sniffling nose, he kept at it despite the obvious pain.

Like a dumb dog licking its wounds she would need to put a bloody cone on him.

"Either you stop that, or I am going to sew your hands to the sides of your legs,"

"It´s itchy. Like a bug's bite or a bad rash," He complained.

"That's good. Means you would be healing well if you stopped that," she turned on her heels again and motioned for Puma to fall in her arms, "Eat a cookie or have a smoke if you are nervous, but please stop that,"

He obliged and pulled out a cigar out of his case, which was dented on the side and had to be muscled into closing and opening. She would see about buying a new one for him.

"What are we going to do now, Martina?" He asked after the first few puffs, and she almost threw Puma into the air after having waited so long for the question. In the end she settled to just mess with him.

"The same thing we do every night, Nico - try to take over the world!" She gave the streets her best evil laugh as she fondled Puma, who looked annoyed at all the noise. Nico, like the good wet cookie he was, wasn't as amused as her.

"I am serious Mar, I was just stabbed in the gut and you," He paused and looked at the thread in her cheek with apprehension, "got hurt. Think it will scar?"

She put a finger to the wound lightly and traced it, what a rush that fight was. There were embers still in her chest and a longing to repeat it; Alas, she was refused and would need to find a new partner to dance with, but still it would make a good memory.

"I think I will make it leave a scar, you know? Adds a flare to have one in the face, I could be the next Joker I believe," And it hurt when she smiled at the thought and she turned to look at him.

"So. Why so serious?" She got a snort of amusement from him and counted it as a small win.

"Because you haven't answered me yet, what's the plan now?"

"Hm, well for starters we are going to make their boss pay for our expenses, then take everything that ain't nailed to the floor,"

"Must we though? We could leave now and wouldn't have lost anything," She rolled her eyes so much they almost went white.

"Why are you still preaching that? If we were to ditch this place, we would have done it from the very beginning. Instead we are here, me having defeated Orillas 'The Stalwart' and you having beaten the black girl, what was her name? Need to throw them in when negotiating,"

When Nicolas didn't answer immediately, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't remember her name?" He squirmed a little as she asked him slowly.

"She never said it actually. She seemed to dislike me," Her mouth fell open as she stared at him, shocked at his attitude towards a worthy opponent.

"So you didn't present yourself? You didn't even say why you were fighting? You two just slugged each other in silence and forwent everything? Nicolas!" She was ashamed of him!

"It was a fight, Martina, not a meet and show we were in. I asked her for her name, once, and she didn't answer," He thought about it for a second and added, "at least not with her name,"

"Of course she didn't, you are supposed to present yourself and go from there. That's how you are supposed to duel! You don't just grunt and slap against each other as if you were engaged in angry sex. My goodness Nicolas, don't you know a thing about proper duelling?" Puma snorted at him and shook his head as if he shared her disappointment, but more likely than not he was just taking a pot shot at her brother.

"And where did you learn that?"

"From Grandma Itse, of course," He chewed on the words and decided to just shrug away the issue.

"Anyway, do you know how to get there at least?" She sniffed haughtily and decided to let the matter rest, but she made sure to remember it. She couldn't let him embarrass her like that again.

"Of course I do. I beat it out of the tail they put on you before I went to watch you get punted through a building,"

"I still think you could have helped me there,"

"And I am telling you I won't become a kill stealer of all things, how will you level if I take on everyone? Or work up the courage to pull out your swords. On that note, you didn't use your special attacks," He cringed as she finished speaking.

"Never say that again, please. Its beyond embarrassing,"

"Now you know how I feel," She looked around and saw both marks the lad she got her information from spoke of, "we are about a block away so put on your best scary face, we have deals to make and people to threaten,"

"Try and keep it civil, Mar,"

"But of course, I am no savage. I will speak for as long as they listen,"

[O.o]

Coltello was chewing his fingers to the bone as he waited, waited for a sign that someone was coming with their cargo or a sign that those two had fled to the docks so that he could cut off their retreat. Except that the only sign he had right now was of his father's growing annoyance as his face became colder and colder still as they waited in the office; At night and with just one Snail light showing his face Mondo Lotta looked like an apparition ready to take his soul for all they were family.

He worked his digits over the Den-den's shell as he waited and his father stared at the door, this was his only chance to make it right and it seemed to be slipping through the gaps of his fingers with each second after midnight that went by.

"What are we expecting to happen now Coltello?" He was looking him right in the eye as he waited for an answer, only cold patience in there.

"I should be getting a call any moment now. Just a little longer," Was the quickest answer he could give, but it didn't sway his father at all.

"Any moment is not an answer," He declared slowly, "Any moment can be in a second or an hour. I´m past playing the waiting game, we will leave this for tomorrow or _any day now_ once you have whatever you are waiting for at hand. Understood?" His words shook his nerves one at a time and soon enough he was following him as he stood up.

"Wait, wait, just a little more. Please, just wait a little more, dad," Lotta froze for a second and balled his ring crusted fingers before letting go, how long ago had they stopped being father and son, had frayed that thread until they were but boss and subordinate. In a moment of soft heartedness, he sat back down and sighed, age was mellowing him down.

"If you don't tell me for what reason you called me in the middle of the night and had the slave brought here for, I will have you shadow Diena for a month," He was actually considering doing it now that he said it, perhaps she was right and he needed to see reality outside the family. Perhaps he had coddled the boy too long, he knew the result of it had seen kings raised in bubbles and they were pathetic; They were but weak men with luxuries.

"Well, remember yesterdays brawl? The one that got Tero a broken arm?"

"The one you tried to take a woman by force?" He replied with embers in his voice.

"Yes," Came his answer after a bout of silence, "the same two people began a fight in the bar, our bar, and they beat up every person in there. Diena and Uncle are supposed to call me when they get things under wraps, and I think I know why they are here,"

"And why is that?" Lotta asked with impatience and a lick of anger that made Coltello brighten a bit.

"It's beca-" He couldn't go any further before a knock on the door that rattle the windows and threatened to tear the wall boomed along the house. Then came another and the ring on the door could be heard slapping the wood like a cry for help.

They heard someone opening the door, already screaming for whoever it was to stop, and then the crisp and loud sound of flesh smacking flesh.

"Slave stay there unless we call for you," Lotta ordered as he heard boots stomping on the stairs. The laugh, the grumble, and a rumble began to become louder as they drew closer and he undid the mechanism at the bottom of his desk, left it locked and loaded in case of the worst as his son's face was drained of blood.

"Anyone home?" Came the voice, all soft and high notes from the other side of the door, "Mind unlocking the door for us?"

"Who are you?" Asked Lotta.

"Open up and I will tell you, only right we speak face to face, from one boss to another," Neither Mondo made any moves to open the door or undo the four locks upon it.

"We are perfectly comfortable speaking like this, what do you people want?"

"We want to save you!" The woman, because no man could have a voice so sweet, answered with mock in her voice.

"Save us from what?" They asked befuddled.

"From what I am going to do to you if you don't open this fucking door,"

When no answer was forthcoming, the woman gave them a laugh and kicked the door lightly before she spoke again.

"Nico, get rid of this door," She ordered.

"Are you sure, Mar? Look at the carvings on it, they are beautiful," Mondo Lotta gave the man on the other side a satisfied nod, he seemed like someone he could get along with if he saw the beauty in it. Most all only saw it as opulent decoration but it told the story of the Family, and in its own way it was a source of pride for him.

"Then cut a door out of the wall, I don't care," Came the impatient voice of the woman, and he wanted to see them cut through the thick steel bars entrenched in the cement of the walls.

"Ok, just be patient,"

In a moment of silence they all heard the song of a blade being drawn, that scraping of steel on leather they were all comfortable with -when it was pointed at someone other than them- and in went the curved blade of a sword like a raven's claws.

They watched as the man moved the steel in a sawing motion as he worked its way up. Up, up, it went. Up until it touched the first lock and sliced it. Up, up, it went and soon cut the second and the third. Up, up, it went and razed the deadbolt with a sharp ding. Now attached to nothing but the hinges - they gave out a cold and shrill melody as they moved- the door opened, and fingers began to sprout from the side.

They were long and brown and firm in their hold; They forced the door open slowly and methodically. Its hinges still crying. In came an animal that stood as tall as his knees, with a head too small by half for its body and ears longer than a full palm. A beast uglier than anything he had ever seen.

Then came the woman, a mound of hair buried her head but couldn't hide the dangerous light in her eyes or the sharp, hard lines of her face; A sadist's face if he has seen any, or maybe that of someone about to be paid. And Lotta liked neither, because they were either victims or debtors; Both positions of weakness and at the mercy of one so callous looking they had everything to lose.

And finally came the man, he dipped his head to make it past the door frame and took everything in the room with small, mean eyes - choosing what to take perhaps- that passed right through them as if they were part of the wall. He had the temperament of a butcher in the market, there was only meat to sell and meat to quarter for him and still guessing which they were.

Mondo Lotta was a man who prided himself in his disciplined attitude, but the seas know he was a hair away from strangling his own blood for this.

"Well, well, look who we have here Nico. The boss and-"She stared straight at his son and Lotta almost moved to cover him, almost, " _Junior,_ " The man made no sounds but he believes he saw him roll his eyes, ever so slightly. "Both Mondos here to receive us, quite the honour, right?"

"We were expecting you two, not quite like _this_ though," He remarked to Coltello who looked ready to be swallowed by the chair, "Now, you know us, but who are you,"

"We are the Esquirla Family, I am Esquirla Ana Martina and this is my brother,"

"Esquirla Ignacio Nicolas, a pleasure," He said curtly from his spot against the wall.

"Now we all know each other, so let's begin the real talk," She carried on and Lotta raised his hand to stop her, she was setting the pace far too much. If he were to allow it, she would pick up momentum and then anything he said would be crashed and discarded, they would lose everything. He had done it one too many times to not recognize it.

Thing was, to be the focus of such intense gazes wasn't something he quite enjoyed. Much less when even the cat had a sharp pair of eyes.

"Before we do, I would like to know how my people are and where so that I may send medics to them," She put a finger to her lips and nodded.

"Well, fine. Seems reasonable enough, your goons are all bunched up in that bar with the roof that's about to fall off," _It is called art woman_ , "Orillas is being taken care of by one of yours last I saw and-" She trailed off into the distance as she turned to give her brother a pointed look, "The black girl is where you heard your tail last spoke I think,"

Lotta wasn't someone prone to anger, he could ill afford it before - when he was weak- and it became a part of him in time but when faced with such blatant dismissal? He was forced to take a deep breath before speaking, couldn't be forgetting the position he was in now.

"The black girl is called 'The Wind' Kimele Diena, or was her name not worth remembering?" He intoned slowly and the other party, indignant, hit the armrest and made Coltlello jump in his seat. The stupid boy had better gather his wits if he ever hoped to lead.

"See what you do Nicolas, now I look like an asshole for not knowing,"

"I am not going to repeat myself on this,"

"I am ashamed at my brother's attitude, I really am, and I will try to cure him of his ignorance at a later date but we really need to speak money now,"

And just like that the charade was off and they were back in a bad spot, as if knowing what he was thinking she gave him a smile -predatory in its edges- and shook a finger as the cat that had settled on the table mirrored her.

They were one creepy family.


	24. Chapter 24

Nicolas gets a little protective here and Martina just gives in to madness.

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He closed his eyes and stood in silence, unnoticed and ignored; A piece of the house as he should be, like a good and useful tool propped by the side of the door. Close to hand and ready to be used. And he waited for whatever use they had in mind for tonight, enjoying the tiny sense of relief in his wrists as he rubbed them and made the skin - and his hands too - warm again. A tiny kink in his mouth loosened at that.

But still he couldn't relax too much; He had to be careful of his back and make sure not to bleed, make sure not to stretch his wounds and dirty the floors that were so precious to his master. The slave didn't understand why though, it was just wood to be stepped on; But it wasn't his business to know, just keep it clean, and he guessed it must have costed more than him.

At least, he guessed, a slave wasn't a tool to be stepped on. He wouldn't like it at all, what with the wooden soles the men wore and the knify shoes the women used. A shudder went through him as he thought about someone like Orillas stepping on him, death would be kindest no doubt.

A noise brought him out of his thoughts, the banging on the door followed by a slap and the noise of a metal plate clicking against the wood. He kept his eyes closed as the order to stand by came and gave the rhythm of boots his attention -he could pay attention to both sounds, no trouble- they got in front of the room's door and began to speak.

The slaves heart began to flutter, and he held a hand to his chest -trying to calm it and failing- as he felt his skin prickle at the sound of the voices; They had new songs to give now, humorous, appraising, impatient, and tired. A delight run through him as they went in and he sharpened his ears.

There they were, a song of three until they began to fight to be the lead; The woman with a voice of gunfire let go of it for a minute as she reloaded and with a second volley tore apart the hands that clutched it.

Slowly, without realizing it, his worries and pains and duties began to lessen until he shed them like his irons. And soon he was but a listener, uninterested in the result, only in the act.

[O.o]

Martina licked her lips as she put together her demands. What to ask, what to say, and how much? Questions and more plagued her as she sat and looked at the boss and his son, the pair had the same face -sharp by the chin and blocky at the forehead with black hair- but you could see the difference in the eyes. One was old and great and knew pain while the other, well, the other was made with what was left.

A man shivering and tittering as his plans were torn apart and he now stood alone, her [Hunter's Aura] seemed to be enough to give him a heart attack; Why, he was already shaking in his seat as she blasted the both of them with it when she walked in, matched her footfall to each explosion of fear for a Tell-tale heart effect.

It was pathetic for the antagonist to be so feeble, was he not up to par to her adventure? Disappointing.

"Let us be reasonable here, present your demands and we- I will answer them as best as I can. Yes?"

Spoke Lotta from his seat behind the giant piece of a desk, so big it was she had confused it with a dining table.

"Well, if you are so accommodating its difficult to say no. What we want is simple, pay for our expenses and then hand over reparations."

The bossman considered her words for a second and put a face like he came to a decision; Martina knew he was winging the whole thing by the coat of mud brown uncertainty that covered him.

"Let us speak about these expenses of yours, what do you think goes in this category?"

"The very basics of course, food stuff, medical supplies, gunpowder, guns, ammunition," She paused for a second and considered, "hooks. Yes, we need hooks too,"

"We absolutely don't," Whispered Nicolas under his breath.

"And how much do you say all that comes to?"

"Oh, I don't know. Medical stuff includes soap and alcohol and needles and thread and antibiotics. And let's not forget about child's bane."

"Child's bane?" Nicolas questioned in almost a whisper.

"Contraceptives, to push my period by a couple of months."

He gave her an uncomfortable look and nodded, Lotta coughed to get her attention and spoke only when she was facing him.

"We can send several boxes from our company's storage if it helps with the end cost."

Both siblings raised an eyebrow at the older man, askance why they would have a storage full of contraceptives. Martina couldn't hold herself back and asked, after all what was the worst answer? That they hosted orgies?

"And why do you have them at the ready? Lots of pirates asking for Child's bane as compensation?"

"Not at all, we provide them to our members at the buying cost. A benefit of working for us."

Martina gave him an appreciative nod.

"So, are you interested in this exchange?"

"Oh, absolutely. But you need to pay the rest of the bill still, and it comes up to seventy-five thousand. Excluding the herbs, obviously."

She straightened herself in her chair and linked her fingers to hide her smiling face. She had thrown such a crazy number, had had the gall to do it and she was a little giddy, it was almost double what she needed to restock her case. She would get spending money! About forty grands for herself.

But her excitement died quickly as the Mondo's faces went from terror to doubt to incomprehension, that took the wind out her sails as she stared at them and their changing moods.

"Tha- That's perfectly reasonable to be honest."

Well that was disappointing, she guessed, was I asking too little? Are they that rich? She questioned herself.

"Oh- Well, I see. Guess there are no dramas with the price then?" She asked them and they both nodded, "Then I guess foodstuff is next then." She nodded to her brother to take the stage.

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Have you been staring into the void until now? We want to know the price to stock our larders."

Martina huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, this stupid brother of hers.

"Oh, ok. We need two hundred kilos of flour, forty kilos of white and black sugar each, ninety kilos of butter, eight live chickens, sevent- "

The three in the room stared at Nicolas as he recited a humongous shopping list by heart, and as Martina was adding up the weight of it she came up to an amount that was close to a bloody ton of food. She didn't know if their little schooner could pull such a weight without the railings touching the top of the waves, and she hoped this was a bluff on his part because she wasn't fancying a trip to the bottom of the sea.

"Wait! Wait!"

Lotta almost shouted the order as his head worked through the jumble of ingredients and proportions that he had been preached on.

"Just tell us how much it amounts to and we will work from there."

"In total its eight hundred thousand bellies, without charging transportation. We can do that ourselves."

For the second time in almost as many minutes everyone looked at Nicolas in shock.

"How come we put ten times the money in food than we do in medicine? Do you know how much equipment I could buy with that?"

"Mar, you use your supply only when we get hurt and that happens once a week. Instead we eat six times a day, of course it wouldn't come cheap."

"Six times a day? No wonder you stayed so plump with Grandma's training, Nicolas you will get diabetes if you keep it up!"

"I added your drinks to the sum. Your bottles pile up too, you know?"

"Please, how much could I drink?"

"Three bottles a day, and you always start with the expensive ones. So about eighty thousand a day."

Martina opened her mouth to object and closed it to bring up the bottles she drank the day before and opened it again, except she remembered it came up to four bottles yesterday and lost her point.

"Cirrhosis is just as bad, Mar," He added with a shit eating grin on his face.

Martina was about to say something hurtful, something about him needing a few more stabs in the gut to shed the weight, but she was rudely interrupted.

"May we remain focused now? We have a deal to make here."

Began Lotta with parched lips before his son spoke for the first time in the night.

"Deal? They are asking almost a million for _food!_ Its ridiculous!"

"Sit down, now!"

In a moment of inspiration Martina raised a finger and pointed it at junior.

"I like his idea, let's keep the numbers nice and round it up to a million. Sounds reasonable to me, right?"

"Right," Answered Nicolas that had gotten closer to her when the boy had risen.

Lotta looked ready to have an aneurysm right there and looked conflicted in who to blame for this.

"You must understand we don't have a million just lying around, what we earn we invest it or must use it or repairs in the shipyard. A million is simply unreasonable, please reconsider it."

He answered with a tick in his eyebrow, and she wondered if she should allow Puma to slap him a few times to get his senses back.

"I have decided I want a million."

She repeated herself with a smile playing on her lips, it was fun to mess with people.

"We don't have a million!"

Screamed Coltello exasperated and Nicolas quickly put a hand on his shoulder and forced him into his seat once again. Seeing him angry at her tickled something and a sense of distaste creeped to her throat.

"I ask you forgive my son's attitude, but he is partially right. We just can't give you millions in such short notice. It would break us."

"Listen here now, we had to waste a lot of time in this place because of that dim wit. We had to waste ammunition and supplies to get to speak to you and I plan to make it all worth it, understand?"

For the first time, for the very first time in the whole time, Lotta lost his accommodating smile and his subservient attitude. He changed them for an angry crook to his lips and a crease to his nose.

"This is not how business is done, you can't come here asking for more than what we have like we are bloody mages. I tell you what I have and what I need to pay for what you broke, and we make a deal, _that_ is how it works."

He straightened himself and tried to look down on Martina but realized he fell short by a bit and decided to puff his chest.

"You don't come demanding everything like we owed it to you, these are the rules of engagement and if you choose to break them then I can assure you there will be no place left for your crew in the North Blue once voice starts going around."

To this outburst of determination and steeled eyes her answer was a lazy tilt of the head and a face of understanding.

"Oh. You still think you have authority, don't you? Too long in a tall chair does that, sadly that isn't how this works. We aren't making a deal."

She leaned forward in her seat.

"We aren't arguing about compensation."

She stood up and put both her hands on the edge of the desk as she stared down at the gang's boss and said.

"This are the terms of your surrender. Accept them or don't, it makes no bloody difference to us because we will take what we want."

Her open hand came down on the wood and a crack appeared from the spot where she hit it and went all the way to the edge where it split and let a splinter fall.

"You are mad."

"Just like everybody else."

[O.o]

She listed demands and invented numbers that were ridiculous to the point of being funny, but no one laughed. Because she was serious, despite the crescent in her face the woman was serious about each and every number down to the fourth decimal.

Coltello watched her speak and asked himself how she expected to get that money, from which hole would she wring that sum from? Would she sell his family as slaves or take over their bar and the deposits? There was no business so lucrative in their whole island.

Anger gave way to calmness as he thought, what were they expecting from all this theatre? Did they actualy do it for the money or was it something on the side they were working for, he had discarded already the coffer he had as being their reason here. They clearly didn't know about it nor cared, but what were their motives then.

Perhaps they were here to settle an old grudge or perhaps to start a new one to shoot their name out there, whichever it was there was no doubt they would be the ones coming out short if they allowed her to keep this up.

Slowly he looked at his father, he would surely have a plan to stop this madness. But as they fought and the woman pressed her demands against his, he always came out short. His gaze now fell upon a man defeated, and for the first time maybe, he saw that the sharpness in his father's face had been mellowed by his years. This wasn't the boss he grew up looking at, the iron handed man that commanded in the deck just as well as at the desk.

For Coltello he hadn't aged a year until now, but with the pane that tinted his eyes broken he now saw him for what he was. For the first time he saw the white in his hair, the wrinkles nestled by his eyes, and the weakness of his frame. A man that gave up the life at sea to raise him and fought to protect and provide him and the family, he was a man that had shoulder the family all this time. Shouldered the responsibility for so very long.

He had to work to lessen this burden.

He started rising from his chair before a hand like a labourer's glove fell upon his shoulder, when he looked back he saw the man that looked like a shaved gorilla shaking his head at him and making for him to sit back.

"Let him Nicolas, let's see what he has to say."

Just like that the weight on his shoulder was moved and he was allowed to stand up in his own home. It was denigrating, but it was what he had summoned.

"We have told you we can't pay what you are asking from us, that much is clear. But we can give you something of equal value, maybe more or maybe less," He swallowed before carrying on, "Its all up to you if you are willing to negotiate with us, instead of doing _this_."

"I will consider it if I find your proposal acceptable, otherwise forget it. Agreed?"

As he considered the hand that was offered across the table he peeked at his father's face that was struck in an expression that said ' _what the fuck are you doing?'_ , and without much thought he took the hand and spoke.

"My offer is simple, I offer you power. The seed of devils and their strength, I will give you their contract,"

He gave the deal more flourish than he was used to, but when you had the one thing to sell it was best to make it look like the very best.

"A devil fruit?"

"Yes," He answered.

"What kind?"

He remembered what he had been told by the ship's Captain and how much it was worked and answered with a confidence he thought gone.

"It's the Kaze-Kaze no mi, a Logia fruit," He let his smile show in his face before he added, "I believe that is plenty for what you are asking, right?"

"You see there is a problem here and that is neither of us is going to eat that fruit, I already have one in my sight and my brother is too exquisite to try one. So, it isn't worth as much as you think."

Coltello's face fell as she spoke; It was a Logia fruit! The strongest kind in the seas and they were rejecting it?

"Now, now, don't give me that face. We will take it, but it won't cover millions, just the one."

"But it´s a Logia."

"I know, but it's the rules of the market. The demand for it doesn't justify a higher price, we want it but not for us and we don't know when we will need it so it isn't worth wasting too much money for it. Understand?"

"But its a Devil fruit! You won't find anything better to become stronger, why wouldn't you want it?"

"Because we already are strong."

Answered the man behind his back, and Coltello sat down and put a hand to his face because it was true. They were strong already, strong enough to defeat users and there was no denying it; So why did he think he could bribe them with something they had aplenty, a stroke of stupidity surely or a vain hope dashed as quickly as it came.

"Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!"

He heard the voice as it drew nearer to the house, a rising bass that called for him as the marching of boots and grew louder and louder. When he was about shout for silence he saw him standing at the door with its locks cut, panting and wheezing as if he had ran a few laps around the island. Petro took one glance at the room his stony face became harder and his thin lips were pressed together until they were but a line in his face.

"And you are?"

Asked the woman with interest.

"Petro. Here to speak with Mr. Coltello."

"Well then come on in, speak."

"Only to Mr. Coltello."

They stared at each other, one a man stubborn as stones and the other a woman that commanded respect. And before Petro got his face bashed he intervened.

"Speak Petro, no need for secrecy now."

"Preparations done, Sir."


End file.
